Today's You and Tomorrow
by Ai Tennshi
Summary: What if Keith hadn't had quite so much success running away from school? What if Edna had failed to separate Nadja and her mother? What if Nadja and Keith had met, just once, as children at boarding school? And what would that have led to, years later?
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I own nothing affiliated with Ashita no Nadja._

**Today's You and Tomorrow** - Prologue

I hummed contentedly as I brushed my hair. Grandfather wouldn't be pleased if he saw me getting ready for the ball on my own, but he wouldn't know. Mother might come in and see that I had dismissed the maids, but she wouldn't tell Grandfather; she wouldn't even disapprove. She would just laugh and offer to help.

I am Nadja Preminger. I was born between the daughter of Austria's Duke Preminger and a pianist called Raymond. But my father died when I was only one, and Grandfather—Duke Preminger—found Mother and myself in Paris. I hear that he told the servants to separate me and Mother, but Mother woke during the conversation and asked why they were doing such a thing. When Edna reluctantly told Mother that Grandfather thought that she wouldn't come back if I remained with her, Mother said that she would return to Austria as long as I was with her.

So Mother and I escaped a possible tragedy. Eventually, she remarried to a childhood friend, Count Albert Waltmular. I know that she doesn't love him like she loved Father, but she's happy, so I don't have anything against it. I'm supposed to call Albert 'Father' in public, but in private, I've always called him Albert. Albert is like a father to me but I don't want to replace Father, even if I can hardly remember him. Sometimes, I feel like I can remember sitting on Mother's lap and laughing and dancing as Father played the piano for me, but perhaps that is no more than my imagination, working from the stories that Mother has told me.

Mother tells me that the lullaby that I sing was something that Father composed for me. She tells me that my first words were lyrics from that lullaby, and that even before Father died, I used to dance in her lap as Father played the song for me on the piano. I still love dancing.

Mother let me go to my debut ball when I was thirteen. Grandfather was against it—he wanted to wait until I was sixteen—but Mother knows that I love dancing, and said that I knew how to behave properly, so nothing was wrong with it. I was delighted. Everything was so beautiful in the ballroom, and I danced as much as possible, and met all sorts of people. The only downside was the nickname "My Little Rose Bud", given to me by a certain flamboyant young man called Master Leonardo. I still get mildly annoyed when he calls me that, but I've grown more used to it over the years.

But ballroom dancing never was enough for me. I think that Mother knows that I sometimes sneak out of the manor to watch commoner performers' dances, but I've never been caught. A boy I met a long time ago taught me a little bit about sneaking around.

My hands froze in the act of pulling on my dress as Keith Harcourt crossed my mind. Casting my eyes to the floor, I resumed my hands' motions.

Keith Harcourt. I spent weeks watching him, but had only one conversation with him. But he's had a lasting impression on me. I've never told anyone—not even Mother—about my encounter with Keith. It was an odd sort, to say the least, and I ended up skipping all my lessons that day, and spent it talking to him. He wasn't like anyone I'd ever met before, and I felt drawn to him. Apart from Mother, he was the first person to understand how I sometimes felt caged in the world of nobles. A day hasn't gone by when he doesn't at least cross my mind, even though it's been six years since I've seen him.

I suppose that if I told anyone about this, they would think that I was in love with Keith—or at least saw him in a romantic light. But that isn't it. I'm not too sure what it is that I feel for him. It isn't friendship, though I've never talked to anyone else like that, but it isn't romantic, though I think of him more than I've ever thought of a single person who isn't Mother or Father. It certainly isn't sympathy, though I felt a little bit of that for him, and neither is it admiration, though I've never admired anyone more. I don't try to define my relationship with or feelings for Keith.

My dress was on—a gift from Masters Leonardo and Terry—and my hair was done, but as I looked at myself in the mirror, I only saw myself in a dress. I knew that some people saw someone beautiful and exotic when they looked at themselves in the mirror after dressing up. But I don't. I never have. Keith would have been proud to know that that part of me never changed.

"_Wait—please, wait!" shouted a young girl as she ran after an older boy. The boy stopped and looked back. His face displayed surprise for a moment at seeing the girl running after him, but then disappeared once again behind his usual emotionless mask._

"_Yes?" he asked as the girl ran up and stopped in front of him._

"_I…" the girl faltered. "I wanted to talk with you." The boy snorted._

"_You? A spoiled princess?" his words were sharp, but he didn't mind. He had had a worse morning than usual, and was not in the mood to be made fun of. "I suppose that you and your little friends were playing some game, and decided that it would be interesting to try and pretend to want to talk to the wordless, rude rebel?"_

"_No," the girl said, looking alarmed. "I just-"_

"_I'm not interested," the boy spat, turning and beginning to walk again. "I don't need some useless, brainless skinny little girl stalking me. Go back to your friends."_

_The girl stared at his back for a moment, eyes and mouth wide open in shock. But her face was beginning to flush, indicating anger at the boy's words. Suddenly her eyes narrowed, her mouth snapped shut, and she darted forward to stand in front of the boy, her face angry._

"_I wondered why no one liked you," she said to him angrily. The boy stared at her in surprise. He had fully expected her to turn and run off, crying. "They all said not to approach you, because you were cold-hearted, uncaring, selfish, and violent. Well, you walk under my window every morning. I've been watching you for _months_, and noticed that something was odd about you. Your face is cold, but your eyes are always sad when you think no one's watching. I wanted to know what was wrong. I can't believe I actually_ cared_! Obviously, they were right about you." She was about to turn and walk away, but the boy wasn't about to let her get away with that._

"_Oh, so you're saying that a skinny little spoiled brat like yourself wanted to actually try to help someone?" he said in a mocking tone. "You people care more about looking pretty in nice dresses than you care about other people. Were you bored?" The girl spun around angrily._

"_You conceited, selfish, presuming fool!" she snapped at him. "How can you expect to know people that you've never met before?"_

"_You nobles are all the same!" he replied, eyes flashing. "You pretend to care only when it's in your interest to do so!"_

"_You can't judge people by their status!" the girl shouted back. "I've seen so many people judging commoners by their status. Isn't that bad enough? Do you have to start doing the same to the upper classes, too?"_

"_Give me one example of a noble completely willing to live the life of a commoner, and I'll reconsider," the boy challenged with hard eyes, crossing his arms over his chest._

"_My mother," the girl replied without missing a beat. The boy stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was a bitter laugh._

"_Maybe she says so," he said in an equally bitter tone. "But people can say things that they don't mean."_

"_What if I told you that I was born in a rundown commoner's apartment in Paris?" she replied, her eyes challenging the boy to throw any more insults at her._

"_Then what are you doing in a nobles' school?" he asked, his tone containing a drop of curiosity in the bitterness. "Why aren't you working to make your way in life in Paris?"_

"_That," snapped the girl, feeling the beginnings of tears in her eyes, "is none of your business." She began to storm away when she heard the boy's voice behind her. It was still bitter, but it was quieter._

"_Nobility killed my mother."_

_The girl turned around to see the boy looking up at the sky. His eyes no longer held anger, but instead that sadness that she had become so accustomed to seeing in them. There was a moment of silence, and then the girl spoke in a tone just as quiet._

"_Why don't we go for a walk?" she asked. The boy looked at her for a moment, and then gave a chuckle that surprised her._

"_You'll miss chapel, and probably some of your classes, too."_

"_They don't teach anything useful anyway," the girl replied, crossing her arms over her chest. The boy chuckled again, and then looked at her with eyes that held a sparkle. She was instantly reminded of stars. His face was certainly attractive, as many of her roommates had pointed out, but she decided that she liked his eyes the most. They made her feel that this was someone that she could like and trust._

"_I'm Keith Harcourt," the boy introduced himself. He didn't bow as he spoke, and the girl found this very refreshing. Despite his sharp tongue, she decided that she liked him._

"_I'm Nadja Preminger," the girl replied with a carefree smile that had a tendency to draw people to her. She didn't know that it was that smile that made Keith decide that he liked and trusted her, just as she had decided the same of him from the sparkle in his eyes._

I smiled at the memory. That was the beginning of the daylong talk that would be our first and last conversation. He intrigued me, and I think I intrigued him. I told him things that I've never told anyone else, such as the fact that I loved to dance so much that I sometimes wished I could sneak out to watch the commoners' dances. I'd seen parts of some as we passed by performers in a carriage, but I had never been permitted to see them. He had laughed, and told me that the secret to sneaking was simply looking like you belong where you are. He told me that all I needed was a dress that looked like that of a common girl's and a hat to hide my face, and then I could quite easily slip out of the servants' entrance in the manor as long as I acted like I knew what I was doing and like I wasn't out of place.

It was only by following his advice that I've been able to see the dances that I have. When I returned home from school the next holiday, I went to bed to find clothing hidden under the covers. I'd pulled out a commoner's dress, and from inside it had fallen a card with the words 'Good luck, little dancer' written in familiar handwriting—Keith's handwriting.

I know Keith's handwriting because he gave me a letter the day after we talked. When I got back to my dormitory that night after talking with Keith all day, I was scolded and switched thoroughly. However, it seems that Keith didn't return to his dormitory. My roommates told me that Keith had not been seen all day, and had probably succeeded in running away. I said nothing, for I had been with him all day, and knew that he had not. However, he did not appear in classes the next day, either. When I returned to my dormitory that night, I found a note hidden under my pillow. It was from Keith; a thank you and a farewell.

I still had the note, I reflected as I opened a drawer of my dresser. I removed a music box from it, which I opened to hear the waltz play. I knew that it was Mother's—it fit her description of the music box that she had had made in memory of her first meeting with Father, and there was a compartment in it that opened only with the ring that was hidden within my brooch. However, I had come to possess it through rather unusual means.

In one of my wanderings outside the manor, I had met a shopkeeper who showed it to me. It matched my brooch, and I instantly suspected that it was Mother's. She had had to sell it in Paris when times were hard, she had told me. The shopkeeper had noticed my fascination with it, and asked me to do a few jobs for him. I had agreed happily, and when I finished, he had given me the music box in repayment. I had been delighted—it was only after I returned to the manor and changed my dress that I realized that I could not show it to mother without giving away my secret.

It was not that I thought that Mother would stop me wandering as a commoner if I told her—I was sure that she would worry, but she understood my need for more freedom than the world of nobles allowed. However, I learned that a secret stays secret longer when no one knows about it. While I disliked deceiving Mother, I didn't think that I could bear it if I was deprived of my wandering. I already had a number of friends among the commoners. My favorite was a group of traveling performers called Troupe Dandelion. They didn't have any dancing girl, but came into city approximately once a year. I loved their performances, and enjoyed talking with them before and after performances. I had told them about my fascination with dancing, and every time they came they asked me to join them as a dancing girl. However, while Sylvie, their singer, had actually convinced me to perform on their stage a number of times, I could not join them. I had not told them the whole truth for the same reason that I never told Mother, but I told them that I had a mother in Vienna that I could not bear to leave behind.

But at that moment, I was not simply Nadja, the girl who loved dancing. I was Nadja Preminger, heir to Duke Preminger and a noble of high class. So I stood up straight, closed the music box and replaced it in the drawer. The ball would be beginning soon, and Grandfather was hosting it. As his granddaughter and heir, I was to be there ahead of time to welcome guests. It was a condition that Mother and Grandfather had agreed upon when Grandfather decided to make me his heir rather than Uncle Herman: I got to live with Mother, but in any social functions, I was to be at Grandfather's estate early enough that it would appear that I lived there.

Head held high like any of the snobbish, spoiled ladies that Keith hated so much, I stepped out of my room to head for the carriage that waited at the front door.


	2. The Other Harcourt

Today's You and Tomorrow - Chapter One: The Other Harcourt

For some reason, I couldn't enjoy the ball as much as I usually did. Maybe it was because I'd thought about Keith before I came; maybe it was because Grandfather had yelled at me for being late; or maybe it was simply because no one was asking me to dance.

For once, I missed Master Leonardo. He was not at this particular ball, but he always danced with me when we were at a ball together. When he didn't, Master Terry did. Actually, Fernando had asked me to dance quite a few times, but I refused to dance with that man, no matter how bored I was. In addition, no one else I knew seemed to be there, and somehow, most people seemed to have someone special with them that they danced or spoke with for most of the night. Albert noticed my discomfort and danced with me two or three times, but he did not care for dancing very much, and I could not ask him for more. He still would dance with Mother, after all.

I scanned the room once more, and my eyes fell upon a couple entering from the balcony. They were laughing together and I recognized the woman, but I was distracted by the young man's face. I could have sworn that that was Keith. That hair, that face… Then, by some chance, his eyes swept across the room and locked with mine for a moment. He _had_ to be Keith. I would know those eyes anywhere. But his eyes continued across the room, hardly stopping on me.

I furrowed my brow and continued to watch as he laughed at something the woman, Maryann Hamilton, had said, returning his eyes to her face. He had not recognized me, but that could be quite natural after all these years. But no, I realized as he spoke to Maryann. That couldn't be Keith. Keith didn't talk that much, and Maryann certainly was not the kind of person that Keith would want to spend time with.

But hadn't I been the one to tell Keith not to judge people by their status? And hadn't he been the one to tell me not to judge people by their looks? I continued watching. The man laughed again. Hadn't Keith said that talking with me had been the first thing in a long while that had enabled him to truly laugh? But a lot could change over the course of six years. Perhaps if I tried approaching him…

I made my way around the ballroom, walking along the walls. I hoped Grandfather wouldn't notice, for the hostess was not supposed to make her way around the room as inconspicuously as she could. She was supposed to dance with and speak with many people politely. Not make her way to one particular person.

To my relief, Grandfather did not notice, for he was talking with Albert. Albert glanced over Grandfather's shoulder once and saw me, but did not change his expression, and continued the conversation. When I finally reached the other side of the room and was near the man and woman, however, I found myself suddenly stopping. How was I supposed to address him, when I could not be sure whether or not this was even Keith?

But he suddenly turned and saw me. I froze for a moment as our eyes met. Those _eyes_… But I quickly regained my composure and smiled with a curtsy.

"I am Nadja Preminger," I said respectfully. "Thank you for coming to our ball tonight."

"It is an honor to be here, Lady Nadja," he said with a respectful incline of his head. "I am Francis Harcourt." I felt my brow furrow ever so slightly, but quickly smoothed it out. So this _wasn't_ Keith, but he _was_ a Harcourt. Perhaps they were brothers: that would explain the likeness between them. Master Francis, however, continued speaking. "This is my fiancé, Maryann Hamilton." Maryann curtsied beside him with a smile.

"It is an honor to meet you, Master Francis," I replied with another mechanical curtsy. I was thinking that I wanted to ask him about Keith. It had been six years since I had heard anything of him, and to put it bluntly, I was worried.

"I hear that your grandfather has decided to name you his heir, Nadja," said Maryann. Master Francis looked at her in surprise at her informal address. "You must be delighted."

"Of course," I lied with a not-too-honest smile. Truthfully, I would have liked nothing better than to leave and perhaps travel with Troupe Dandelion as a dancing girl. Somehow, as I grew older, the 'cage', as Keith had called nobility, seemed to grow smaller. But I knew that it would leave Mother upset and Grandfather irate if I ran away as Keith had done. "I did feel that it was a shame for Uncle Herman, however," I added. This was not a lie. Uncle Herman wanted to be Grandfather's heir. I really did think it was a shame that he had not been chosen as the heir—everyone would have been happy that way.

"Naturally," Maryann agreed with a smile. "He must have been quite distraught."

"Yes, he was," I replied sadly, remembering the last month, during which Mother would receive a phone call in the middle of the night from Oscar, that Uncle Herman had drunken himself to violence again. I knew that Oscar did not like to depend on Mother, but Mother knew how to calm Uncle down. She had that effect on people, I had noticed.

"Are you acquainted?" Master Francis asked Maryann and me politely. I smiled.

"We met at my debut ball," I explained. "Maryann was very kind to me when I accidentally knocked over a bowl of punch and was quite upset."

"You _were_ very enthusiastic that night," Maryann smiled. She had unnerved me at first—always proper and distant—but she was kind to me, and I liked her. I considered her a friend, and hoped that she thought the same of me.

"I was overenthusiastic," I laughed, and Maryann's smile widened. I had never actually seen her laugh apart from a polite chuckle. "It was three years ago," I explained for Master Francis's benefit. "Maryann has honored us by attending many of our parties since then."

"Ah, yes," said Master Francis, looking at Maryann. "You have mentioned that a few times, I believe." Maryann inclined her head in a nod.

"I congratulate you on your engagement," I said, smiling. "Maryann never mentioned being betrothed." I had a slight suspicion that it might be a love marriage—rare among nobles—as the look in Maryann's eyes as she looked at Francis was the same look as I had seen in Julietta's eyes as she looked at Master Leonardo.

"It was an arrangement that Francis's father, Duke Harcourt, came up with," Maryann explained, surprising me. "He felt that an alliance between our houses would be in both our interests." I was sure that she liked Master Francis…but what about Master Francis?

There was a short silence.

"Do you-" However, I stopped and looked at Master Francis in surprise—he had spoken the exact same words at the same time as I had. I found myself smiling before I could stop myself, and to my surprise, so was Master Francis.

"Yes, Lady Nadja?" he asked politely, the smile still on his face.

"It was nothing of consequence—I have already forgotten," I lied. I found that I liked Master Francis. He was lighthearted, and had a sense of humor. Those were qualities rare in nobles—at least, they were not displayed often. "You were saying?"

"I was simply going to ask if you enjoyed the waltz," Master Francis replied. "A new song is starting—would you like to dance?" I was delighted. Finally, someone to dance with! But then I thought of Maryann.

"If Maryann has no objections, that would be lovely," I replied with a smile, looking at Maryann. She was silent for a moment, and her gaze seemed almost sad. However, when she spoke, it was in the same calm, collected, gentle voice.

"Of course I have none." Her smile, however, seemed slightly forced. I had come to be able to notice this sort of thing after years of living among nobles—they were taught to hide their emotions in public, and some could be quite good at doing so. But I curtsied to her, and then took Master Francis's offered hand.

"You have not yet danced with Maryann?" I asked politely as we began to waltz. It was the same song that Mother and Father had first danced to, I realized. I did not know what to think of that. Master Francis looked slightly surprised at my question.

"We are friends—we have known each other since childhood," he explained with one of those smiles that were quickly becoming familiar to me. However, as I heard his words, I thought of the look with which Maryann looked at him and felt saddened. "We talk often, but I dislike dancing with most people." I was surprised at this—he danced very well. My body felt as light as a feather.

"You asked to dance with me," I reminded him. He laughed.

"You smile sincerely," he told me. "That isn't a trait that I see often in public among nobility." How similar, yet different he was from Keith, I thought. They almost seemed like light and shadow. "But my mother taught me to waltz," he went on. My eyes snapped up to his face at these words. His eyes were bright, and sparkled like stars as he spoke of his mother. "She was always a very bright person. She taught us that waltzing is something to be done happily." _Us_, he had said. But I could not bring myself to ask about that. Especially when his description of his mother sounded so different from Keith's…

"I love dancing," I told him instead. "My mother managed to convince Grandfather to let me have my debut ball three years ago rather than this year, because she knew that I loved dancing so." Master Francis chuckled.

"Yes, I can tell that you enjoy it," he said. "There's a certain spring in your step when you dance." My eyes snapped wide open, and I stared at him.

"_I love dancing," Nadja said, twirling in the tree grove where they walked. "I've never loved anything more. I ask Mother and Albert to dance with me often, I love it so much. I wish that I could go and see some of the performers' dances, but Grandfather would never allow it, and I couldn't possibly sneak out of the manor."_

"_I can tell," Keith told her with a grin. Nadja stopped twirling to look at him suspiciously._

"_What, that I can't sneak?" she asked indignantly. Keith shook his head, still grinning._

"_That you love dancing." Nadja looked at him in surprise, and he elaborated. "There's a certain spring in your step when you dance, and a fire in your eyes when you talk about it."_

"_But I haven't danced with you," she said in surprise._

"_You've been twirling all the way, haven't you?" Keith's words were more of a remark than a question. Nadja looked at him for a moment, and then her face broke into a smile._

"_Let's dance!" she said to him brightly. He stared._

"_What?" asked Keith incredulously._

"_Dance with me," Nadja said, still smiling. Keith stared for a moment, and then grinned again._

"_Unorthodox, isn't it?" he said teasingly. "The female asking the male to dance?" Nadja rolled her eyes in exasperation._

"_You were just saying that you didn't like that sort of thing," she huffed. Keith began to chuckle, but reached out and took her hand in one of his, and pulling her closer, put the other around her waist. And so they danced._

"Lady Nadja?"

It was Master Francis's voice—he sounded worried. It was then that I realized that I had stopped in the middle of the dance floor. I quickly plastered a smile on my face, and began to move my feet again, coaxing him to do the same. I'd almost forgotten, I realized. I _had_ forgotten. Until Master Francis had said the same words as Keith once said, I hadn't even remembered that we had once waltzed together.

"Is something the matter, Lady Nadja?" Master Francis's voice was formal, but there was a hint of concern in it. I decided that it was very awkward that he kept calling me 'Lady', and so made up my mind.

"Please, call me Nadja," I told him. He looked mildly surprised, but gave a small nod of consent.

"Then you must call me Francis," he told me. I smiled in reply, inwardly cursing myself for my carelessness. Mas- Francis obviously was not Keith. I had already established that. So I had to stop thinking about Keith every time he said something that was similar to something Keith had said.

"Did something I say offend you, Nadja?" Francis asked, the concern still in his voice.

"No," I told him with a sincere smile. "It was just that what you said…" The smile faded and I looked away. "Someone once told me the same thing." A small smile started on Francis's face.

"This someone is special to you?" he asked. I furrowed my brow. Certainly Keith was special to me. I wouldn't remember him so vividly six years later if he weren't special to me. But it wasn't in the sense that Francis meant…

"Certainly," I replied after a moment of hesitation. "He is very special to me, although we only spoke once." Francis raised his eyebrows at this.

"Only once?" he asked with polite curiosity.

"Yes," I said. It was easy to talk to Francis. I found the words spilling out of me. However, while I knew that I was talking about someone related to him—brother or cousin, I had no way of knowing—I still did not want to mention Keith's name. It was almost as if something would break if I said it after so many years of never hearing or speaking of him. "We spoke all day, though—from morning to evening." I smiled at the memory. That was one day of my life that I was sure I would never forget.

"You were allowed to stay away with this person all day long?" Francis looked quite surprised. I laughed.

"No, actually. We met at school. We started to speak one morning, and spent all day talking. I missed chapel as well as meals and classes, but it was well worth the scolding and switching that it earned me afterwards."

"Switching?" Francis remarked in surprise. "You must have gotten along quite well, then." I felt my eyebrows shoot up. 'Get along'? Keith and I?

"_You stole those!" Nadja accused angrily. "You actually_ stole _them!!" Keith raised an eyebrow at Nadja._

"_You said that you were hungry."_

"_Yes, but you_ stole _them!!" Keith glared._

"_Did you not see the way that he kicked that poor little boy who was just asking for one? He even offered to work for it, and what did that man do? He kicked him!" Keith's eyes were flashing dangerously._

"_But stealing is wrong!" Nadja snapped, her eyes flashing right back. "You're no better than he is!" Keith's eyes widened and then narrowed, and he stomped up to Nadja so that they were nose-to-nose._

"_Don't you_ dare _compare me to the likes of him," he growled. The venom in his voice startled Nadja, but she stood her ground. "At least I gave one to the boy."_

"_You could have done it some other way," she told him, still angry. "You could have just told him that didn't like what he did!"_

"_And you think he'd listen to that?" Keith angrily retorted._

"_How do you know what_ anyone _would do before you actually try?"_

We'd certainly done our share of fighting—that was for certain. But that waltz that I almost forgot…

"_You're a good dancer," Nadja said in delight as they waltzed through the trees. "I feel as light as a feather!"_

"_As are you," Keith laughed. "You haven't stepped on my toes once."_

"_Keith!" Nadja huffed. He had said that he wouldn't tease her any more._

"_What?" he asked with a grin. "You haven't." Nadja snorted. Was he going to keep doing this until she got completely fed up with him? "But seriously," he said, his tone turning serious, "you do dance well. I hardly have to lead. I've only ever danced with my mother and Aunt Emma, but you dance as well as they do."_

_Nadja looked up at him. His eyes were serious. She felt a slow smile spreading across her face. He had to be honest if he was mentioning his mother in the complement._

"_Thank you," she told him, smiling happily._

"_Your welcome," he replied, and he gave her the first real smile—not a grin, smirk, or laugh—that he had shown that day._

"_You ought to smile more often," Nadja recommended. "You look much nicer when you do." Keith's eyes widened in surprise, and then his smile widened._

"_I hadn't smiled at all in months before today," he told her. "I don't think I've even laughed in weeks." Nadja's eyes saddened._

"_You ought to," she told him, tightening the hand that held his. "It always make me feel better when I smile." Keith's smile softened, and he did not reply in words. They waltzed on in silence._

"Yes, I suppose we did," I replied. I could feel my eyes softening at the memory of that waltz with Keith.

"Would it offend you if I enquired as to where this young man is at the moment?" Francis asked. I looked at him in surprise, and then looked away, smiling sadly.

"I don't know, actually," I replied. "The day after we talked, he ran away. I haven't heard anything of him since." I saw Francis's eyes sadden.

"My brother, too," he said. I looked at him. Could it be…? "My twin brother and I were sent to school in Switzerland, but he stayed there for three years longer than I, because Father felt that as the heir to the House of Harcourt, he needed to be more disciplined. But we kept receiving letters that reported increasingly imaginative escape attempts. It was only by sheer luck that they managed to keep him there as long as they did. When we were thirteen, he finally succeeded. I haven't heard of him since then, either." I felt sympathetic. Now I knew for sure that this was Keith's twin brother—the stories matched perfectly—but it made me feel sad to think that he had left his brother worrying. If I ever met him again, I'd definitely have something to say about that.

"I'm sorry," I told Francis quietly. "But if he was trying increasingly imaginative means of escape, then surely he's happier now?" I was, however, fighting back and smile and could not help thinking that 'increasingly imaginative escape attempts' was an understatement.

"What_?" Nadja was incredulous._

"_You heard me," Keith replied in a dull monotone._

"_I didn't even know that it was_ possible _to go into the sewers!"_

"_You can if you know where to go," Keith shrugged. "It was just my luck that they had decided to do some cleaning that night."_

"_What did you try after that? The gutters?" Nadja was not being sarcastic. She was honestly shocked that anyone would be so desperate to escape._

"_No, actually, I've never tried that. I did try the chimney. Unfortunately, it was so dark that I bumped into the chimney sweep half way up." Nadja stared, and then began to giggle. "Hey, it isn't that funny," Keith said crossly. Nadja just giggled harder._

"_Keith, the _chimney sweep_?" Nadja gasped through giggles._

"_How was I supposed to know that they cleaned the chimneys at one o'clock in the morning?" Keith demanded in frustration, throwing his arms into the air. However, he only succeeded in turning Nadja's giggles into gales of laughter._

"Yes, I suppose that it would be nice to think so," Francis replied with a soft smile. I had to struggle not to giggle at the memory of Keith relating his futile escape attempts. I thought I had forgotten that, too. Somehow, talking to Francis was bringing back memories of Keith at an alarming rate. Fortunately for me, the song ended just then. I curtsied to Francis with a smile, and turned to return to the edge of the room.

"Would you like to dance, Nadja?" a voice asked from behind me as the orchestra began a new song. I recognized the voice and spun around instantly in delight.

"Oscar! I didn't see you, so I didn't think you'd made it tonight!" I greeted my cousin joyfully. Oscar, though three years older than I, was like a brother to me. We had had our debut ball together, and he knew how much I loved to dance.

"Hermann was a little drunk this evening, so Mother had to take care of him. Once he fell asleep, she sent me on my own." My eyes narrowed in sympathy. Uncle Herman was still in bad shape, it seemed…

"I'm sorry…" I knew how much Oscar hated calling Uncle 'Father', and I couldn't blame him—he had told me once that Uncle Hermann abused Aunt Hilda at times.

"It's nothing," Oscar shook his head and a smile returned to his face. "We're still in the middle of the dance floor, Nadja. Do you want to dance?"

"Of course," I smiled, taking his offered hand.

I danced to two songs in a row with Oscar, and then he left to talk with Mother and Albert, and I walked out to the balcony.

It was so quiet outside. I looked up to see a full silver moon. I'd thought of Keith more today than I had in the entire past year. Certainly, I meant it when I said that a day didn't go by when I didn't think of Keith. But it would usually be small things, such as "Keith wouldn't like this", "Keith would be upset if he heard that I said that", "Keith would be proud of me for this", "I shouldn't have done that—Keith would be mad", and other such things. Or sometimes I would close my eyes before I went to sleep and see those eyes staring into mine: just as they did as we parted that day.

But today, I was having so many flashbacks; remembering things I thought I'd forgotten, and worrying about him. Certainly, there were moments when I sat down and thought of him, and wondered if he was well. There were times when I worried, wondering why he hadn't even snuck into my room and left me a note like he had done the night he left and when I returned for the holidays after that. It was a painful thought to think that he might have forgotten me.

Sighing, I made my way down the steps from the balcony into the garden. It was impolite for me, the hostess, to desert the ball to take a walk in the gardens, but it wasn't as though anyone seemed to want to talk or dance with me, so I figured that it wouldn't do any harm if I took a walk in the gardens for about ten minutes.

The gardens were dark, and only the large, lit up windows of the manor and the moonlight enabled me to see where I was going. However, while I preferred day to night, I found it refreshing to be able to walk alone in silence. Sighing, I slowed my pace.

These past few months had been extremely hectic. First, Uncle Herman started acting very carelessly—more carelessly than before. He drank and smoked, but it was when he was found completely drunk in a brothel that Grandfather lost his temper. Uncle Herman made all sorts of excuses and apologized most profusely, but Grandfather was no longer willing to let Uncle be his heir. Perhaps his being found in a brothel wouldn't have caused such trouble ordinarily, but Uncle was in debt up to his ears, and Grandfather could hardly believe how Uncle could live so carelessly despite his debts.

Uncle Hermann never really spoke to me at all, but I had noticed him trying to approach me since then. However, he always had unnerved me, so I avoided him. Mother did her best to patch things up between Grandfather and Uncle Hermann, and she told me not to speak ill of Uncle, but that didn't necessarily mean that I had to like him, right? I sympathized with him, but I wanted to stay away from him as much as I could.

"Nadja!" called a voice behind me. I winced. I thought that Uncle Herman was drunk at home!

"Uncle Hermann," I replied politely, turning with a smile and a curtsy.

"Listen," he said, approaching me rapidly. There was something ominous about his demeanor, and I had to force myself not to run away. "You know about my debts, right?" I nodded. "Well, I'm trying to repay them, but I can't seem to get enough money, no matter what I do. Could you get as much as you can from Father for me?" I stared.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" I asked cautiously. His face was slightly red—he was drunk. As if to prove my thought, his faked smile vanished to be replaced by an angry sneer.

"I'm your uncle, you little ingrate," he sneered at me. I backed away. I knew from Mother and Oscar that Uncle Hermann had a tendency to get violent when he was drunk. "Treat me with more respect! And don't you dare try to run away!" He made a lunge for me, and I ran. I knew that there was a loose bar in the fence if I could reach it—I had discovered it when I was wandering around as a child—so I ran towards that. I could have run towards the ballroom, but Grandfather would be angry, and the fence was closer anyway.

I heard Uncle running behind me. I heard him yell at me to stop, but kept running. It wasn't my fault that I was Grandfather's heir and not he, but I didn't want to take the chance that he wouldn't take that anger out on me. Mother had told me all sorts of stories of how Uncle was kind as a child, but I knew that he had not always been kind, even then. And from what Oscar had told me, nowadays he hardly ever displayed any kindness at all.

As I ran, I became increasingly aware of the lack of light. I tripped once, one of my high heels sinking into particularly soft earth. However, I simply kicked off the boots, grateful that they weren't the complex laced shoes that I sometimes wore to balls, and ran on. When I reached the fence, I searched quickly for the oak tree that was my landmark. It was a little way to my right, so I resumed running in that direction. I was now off the path, and I felt a few sharp rocks under the grass beneath my bare feet. When I reached the oak tree, I counted the bars to the right as quickly as I could, even as my heart pounded wildly and I heard Uncle Herman running my way.

I found the right bar and tugged. At first it didn't move, and I thought I'd counted wrong somehow. But then with a creak, the loose part at the top slid out, and I slid it to the side, widening the opening between bars to something that I could just barely squeeze through. Still barefooted, I ran down the street, too frightened to turn as I heard Uncle jiggle the bars and shout after me angrily.

With no idea what to do or where to go, I ran on down the dark, silent, deserted street.


	3. The Black Rose

Chapter Two: The Black Rose

I ran as if my life depended on it, even after I knew that the manor was out of sight behind me. The dim moonlight was blocked by the buildings around me for the most part, and the streetlamps were few and far between.

When I finally slowed and stopped, I was panting and had no idea where I was. The city that had seemed so inviting and lively in the daylight felt ominous and dead. My footsteps were the only sounds that I could hear, and they sounded loud and clear. It was beginning to occur to me that the wind was cold as well. I had worn a shawl to the manor, but did not have that with me now.

Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder and spun around in shock.

I froze, eyes wide.

"You…?" I asked quietly with a gulp. I had only met him once before—he was Black Rose the Thief, a thief famed throughout Europe who stole from nobles who obtained their money through unjust means and gave that to the poor.

"_Stop!" Nadja shouted angrily as she chased a man who ran from her, carrying a music box. "Give that back, you thief!" The man did not reply, and only continued to run. He ran through deserted alleys, where there was less chance of being seen._

_Suddenly, something large and black dropped before the thief from a roof. Nadja stopped, mouth wide, as the man—for it was a man clad in black that had dropped—struck the thief's back and the thief collapsed. Nadja was surprised to see that the man in black held the music box._

"_Um, that…" About to ask him to return the music box, she recognized him with a jolt. "You're the Black Rose!"_

"_At your service, fraulein," replied the Black Rose with a sweeping bow as he held out the music box._

"_That's ridiculous!" Nadja flared as she snatched back the music box. "You just stole from him!"_

"_It was yours, wasn't it?" the Black Rose replied with an obviously amused grin and a shrug._

"_But you just_ stole _from a thief! That's ridiculous!" Nadja was feeling rather overwhelmed. Why had a thief just saved her from a thief?_

"_That's what I do," the Black Rose shrugged, his grin fading. Nadja could not see his brows furrow under the mask. Somehow, the way that she said those words rang a bell in his mind… "Nobles obtain their money by stealing from the poor, and I've dedicated my life to returning that money to the poor."_

"_A thief is still a thief!" Nadja snapped. His demeanor seemed rather familiar in a way that caused her temper to flare even more…but where could she have possibly ever seen him before?_

"_Is that so?" asked the Black Rose, and Nadja could see that her words amused him._

"_It is. And don't make fun of me!" Nadja snapped as a chuckle escaped the Black Rose._

"_It'll be dark soon," the Black Rose said as he turned with a sweep of his cape. "You ought to get into your home, skinny little girl." He called the words back over his shoulder as he began to run, leaving a fuming Nadja behind him._

"_Thief!!" she shouted after him angrily, and his laughter echoed through the alley as he leapt up and vanished from sight._

"Well, well, well," said the Black Rose, and I saw a smirk tug at a corner of his mouth. "If it isn't the skinny little girl. And she turned out to be a skinny little noble." I crossed my arms with a slightly faked huff. I wasn't about to let him know that my heart was still pounding in fear.

But I failed. The smirk vanished in an instant, and the Black Rose walked up to me, looking at me closely. I could vaguely see blue eyes through the mask. For a moment, something about those eyes seemed to strike my heart, but the feeling was gone the next moment.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Why would you care?" I tried to snap. But I could feel it as my composure crumbled. The shudders started out small, but soon I found myself sitting on the ground, curled up with my face buried into my knees, shuddering violently with tears streaming from my eyes. Even worse was that the Black Rose was on his knees beside me, stroking my back gently and whispering soothing words into my ear. Worst, however, was the way that the feel of his hand on my back calmed my shudders and the sound of his voice made me feel safe. And even my resolve to have nothing to do with the likes of him crumbled.

By the time I finally stopped crying, I was leaning against him with my face buried into his shoulder, and one of his arms was around me while his other hand continued to stroke my back soothingly. Truthfully, even if he was only pretending to care, it made me feel much better to feel as though someone _did_ care.

That was why, when he asked gently what the matter was, I told him about how Uncle Herman had attacked me. Normally, it was something that I would have considered an idiotic course of action. This was a thief who stole from nobles, and I was giving him inside information of one of the most powerful nobles in all of Europe. But at that particular moment, I desperately wanted to trust someone.

Mother had told me how Uncle Herman could be unreasonable at times, and Oscar had told me how he could be abusive when he was drunk. Even I didn't like spending time in Uncle's presence. However, he was still family. The fact that he had just attacked me for something that he wanted that I had but didn't even want was a severe blow to my heart. I had never thought that Uncle would try to hurt me…

And I found myself telling the Black Rose all of this. I had the presence of mind not to use names, and simply called them by titles, such as Uncle and Grandfather. But it certainly didn't feel as though the Black Rose was trying to trick me into revealing information. He held me as though I was the most important thing in the world at that moment, and nothing else mattered. Even after I finished telling him, now significantly calmer than I had been before, he did not question me. That assured me that he was not seeking information—if he were, he would ask questions that were disguised as concerned inquiries, and actually required me to give away some information.

Suddenly he stood, pulling me up beside him. In my surprise I made no move to follow when he began to walk, pulling me by the hand. However, instead of being angered or annoyed, he simply turned, swept me up into his arms, and resumed walking, carrying me.

"Wha- I can walk, you know!" I said in annoyance, a fraction of my temper returning.

"Yes, but I doubt you would walk fast enough," he told me. "You don't even have the energy to yell at me like you normally would if I decided to carry you. And you've lost your shoes: your feet are already aching, I'm sure."

He was right, I realized. I did feel exhausted, and my feet hurt. I considered crossing my arms in a huff, but decided that as long as he was going to carry me, I might as well help. So I placed my hands on his shoulders and supported some of my weight that way.

"You don't have to do that, you know," he said, chuckling down at me. "You're light enough that it doesn't take much effort to carry you." So after a moment of hesitation, I released his shoulders. I _was_ feeling tired after that fountain of tears that I'd cried, and it was uncomfortable to try and support myself that way.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked him. I was too tired to be angry, but I was wary. He snorted.

"Anywhere that's not your home—that's for sure." My eyes snapped up and met his through his mask. But I was too distracted by his words to recognize the pang that shot through my chest at the sight of those sparkling blue eyes.

"But- wait, Mother will worry!" I protested.

"Nadja, you're in your uncle's way. If you stay there, you'll be in trouble—I can assure you of that much." What I could see of his face was serious as he spoke, and I was once again too distracted by his words to notice that he had used my name: something he should not have known.

"I don't want to leave Mother!" I told him forcefully.

"Your mother can get along without you, and you without her," he said sharply.

"How do you know that?" I demanded. My head was beginning to pound. "How do you know that I won't run away the moment you set me down and go back to Mother?"

The Black Rose sighed and slowed his footsteps.

"How about a compromise, then?" he suggested.

"A compromise?" I asked, surprised.

"You work away from your home for a week or two—even a month, if you can handle that long. During that time, watch the papers for mention of your uncle or grandfather. After that, I'll come and see you again, and we'll discuss what to do. How does that sound?"

I considered it. The idea of going back immediately _did_ scare me, once I thought about it. Uncle would be irate, and would have the chance to speak to Grandfather first, so Grandfather would scold me when I got back. As I thought, I realized that I would be sleeping in fear if I were to return, wondering what Uncle was going to try next.

"I guess…" I told him hesitantly. Then I suddenly narrowed my eyes in suspicion. "Why are you doing this for me?" He looked at me for a moment, obviously surprised. As he looked back up at the road, I saw a small grin curl at the edge of his mouth.

"I wonder…" he said. In my opinion, he didn't sound like he was wondering at all; he sounded more like he was telling me that he knew something that I didn't. I opened my mouth to demand that he tell me why, but what came out was not an angry demand, but a tired yawn. "Go to sleep," he told me. "You're tired."

But I was already closing my eyes and drifting off, my head leaning against his shoulder.


	4. Troupe Dandelion

Chapter Three: Troupe Dandelion

I heard the buzzing of voices around me and furrowed my brow. What were so many people doing in my room?

Then I remembered the occurrences of the previous night and my eyes snapped open. The ceiling above my head was ridiculously low. If I sat up, it would be just above my head. I looked to the left. There was a wall. I looked to the right and saw that the floor was quite a bit below me, and before the wall on the other side of the room were two beds—one on top of the other with just enough space for a person to sit up between them.

I shot up, kicking off the blanket on top of me. There was only one place I knew that was like this, and if my suspicion was right, this was no room.

When my feet touched the ground, I was startled to note that I was no longer wearing my ball gown, but instead an ordinary commoner's dress. That didn't bother me at all, except for one little detail—who had changed me? Because if it had been the Black Rose…

I shook the thoughts from my mind, stood, and walked toward the curtain at the end of the hallway. I knew, even before I pulled them apart and stepped through, that I would enter a place with a table and benches, and a closet. Everyone was sitting at the table, and they looked up with a start at the sound of the curtains parting.

"Nadja," said Sylvie in relief. "We were worried about you."

"How did I get here?" I asked, glancing once more around the inside of Troupe Dandelion's car. I was actually quite glad to find myself here, but how could the Black Rose have known that this was the ideal place for me to work for a week or two?

To my surprise, no one answered, and looked instead at Granny. Granny was the old fortuneteller, and she had a knack for knowing things that no one could figure out how she knew. I was pretty certain that she'd known that I was a noble from the first time that she ever saw me.

"A young man brought you here," she smiled at me. "And said that you needed to work for two weeks or so before you could go back home." My brow furrowed. 'Young man'? Was that the Black Rose? Certainly, he was a man, but I had no idea whether or not he was young. I had no desire to let my friends know that the Black Rose had helped me (they had heard how much I hated thieves more than anyone), but the desire to know _what_, exactly, had happened the previous night was stronger.

"Was he wearing black?" I asked cautiously. Granny chuckled.

"Oh, yes, child. Black from his top hat to his boots." So it _was_ the Black Rose who had brought me here. I was pretty sure that no one else wandered the streets of Vienna at night, completely black. And the top hat was a giveaway anyhow. What normal commoner wore a top hat? However, that was a fact that everyone in the room picked up.

"Top hat?" asked Kennosuke curiously. He was a samurai, and had only joined the Troupe two years before. "You were brought here by a noble of some sort?"

"No," I hastily shook my head. "I sort of…bumped into him on the street when I was in trouble, and he helped me. I'm pretty sure he's not a noble." Honestly, what sort of noble would steal from nobility? And only the ones who obtained their money unjustly, too.

Arvell the clown, Thomas the violinist, Rita the lion tamer, Sylvie the singer, Kennosuke the samurai, Leader, and even Crème and Chocolate, the lions, looked at me silently and expectantly, as though awaiting an explanation. I glanced at Granny. Had the Black Rose told them anything? Granny was smiling her usual omniscient smile, and said nothing. Helplessly, I decided to tell a half-truth.

"You see…my mom and I went to see my grandf- my grandpa and uncle, and my uncle got a bit angry with me, because grandpa said that he would give me something that my uncle's wanted for a long time. He attacked me when no one else was looking, and I ran away. So…" I looked around at the surprised, familiar faces around me. "I was hoping that you'd let me dance here for a while—a few weeks."

"Of course, we'd love to have you dance for us. You're an excellent dancer. But…" Sylvie trailed off and looked at Leader, whose brow was furrowed.

"Nadja, we're a group of traveling performers," Leader said hesitatingly. He was a muscle man, but on the inside, he was probably the most kindhearted member of the Troupe. "We don't stay in one place very long. I know that we've stayed in Vienna for two weeks at a time, but that was because you were here. This time, we can't do that—we've got an appointment to be in Spain in a few weeks' time, and can't afford to miss that. I wish we could help…" He glanced at the other members of the Troupe, who were averting their eyes helplessly.

I thought for a moment. So the Troupe couldn't stay in Vienna. In fact, they had to go all the way to Spain. I could stay and try and find another job that I would probably be terrible at and wouldn't like half as much as I loved dancing. Or, I could…

"What are your plans after Spain?" I asked. Leader looked at me in surprise.

"We don't have any," he said after a moment of surprised silence. "We're traveling performers. We just go wherever the wind blows us. The only times that we have plans is when we're called somewhere, like we are to Spain now, but that's rare."

"How long will it take to get to Spain?" I asked.

"Well…about two weeks. And then we would be performing in Spain for a week or so at the least."

My heart sank. If I went with the Troupe, the soonest that I could be back would be five weeks. And that aside, how could I ask them to go right back to where they came from? So I was going to have to find another job.

"How long are you staying in Vienna, then?" I asked helplessly. If I could dance here for a few days, then maybe I could find another solution.

"As long as it takes to earn enough money to make the trip to Italy—a few days." Leader's eyes were sympathetic, and I knew what he meant. If I performed with them today, they would have enough money to leave tomorrow. I thought for a moment.

"I'll just perform with you for as long as it takes for you to earn that money, then," I said with a smile. "After you leave, I'll see what I can do then."

Leader looked down at me for a moment, and then grinned.

"That's our optimistic Nadja," he said happily, clapping my shoulder gently. I looked at the others to see them grinning as well.

"I don't have my dancing costume, though," I suddenly realized. "I can't go home to get it…"

"Oh, this?" chuckled Granny, and she held up a red and black dress—my dancing costume. It was the new one that I had just finished making on my last trip into the common streets.

"How…" I began to ask, taking it from her in bewilderment. I was sure that this had been in my room at Albert's manor…

Granny did not reply, but winked instead. I had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but she turned away instantly, cheerfully said something about making more hats, and walked off to the back of the car.

"So…what exactly happened, Nadja?" asked Kennosuke curiously. I looked to him in surprise.

"I told you—my uncle got mad at me," I replied, trying to sound as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Even so, I felt my knees begin to tremble. Apparently, a part of me was still unable to accept that Uncle Herman would actually _attack_ me like that.

"Yes, but…" As Kennosuke averted his eyes, I began to fear that he would say that a person wouldn't normally run away at something so trivial, and I would have to explain everything.

"He wants to say that he didn't know that you had an uncle," Rita cut in, throwing an annoyed look at Kennosuke. I had known the eight-year-old to be mute until they had come the previous year. Apparently, when Crème and Chocolate had gotten trapped in a burning building, she had managed to call to them, thereby reviving her speech by sheer will. She now spoke more than the rest of the Troupe put together.

At the present moment, however, I gave Rita a confused look.

"You always said that you couldn't leave Vienna because you had a mother here, and so we thought that you had no other relatives," Sylvie explained helpfully.

"Oh," I said, feeling a little ashamed. I had explained badly. "No, I have family—my grandpa, my uncle, and Mom remarried to a new husband, too. It's just that Mom and I share a special sort of bond…"

"She's going to have to let you go eventually, when you start working," Thomas cautioned. I had to fight to keep from blushing at the thought that as Grandfather's heir, frankly, I never _would_ have to work.

"Yes, I suppose," I mumbled, still fighting the shame that was spouting like a fountain in my chest.

"Now, people," said Leader, clapping to get our attention. "We still have to set up before the performance this morning, and then the one this afternoon."

"We're doing two performances per day?" I asked in surprise. That was rare for Troupe Dandelion.

"Like Leader said, we really are in a hurry," Sylvie said to me, and her smile looked apologetic. However, I didn't want to think about what I would do once they left.

"When is the first performance?" I asked.

"In about an hour," Arvell replied as he walked outside.

"We've got to hurry, then!" I gasped, picking up my dancing costume and turning to head for the back of the car.

I was intending to try a new dance for this performance. I had met a Spanish dancer a few weeks back, and talking to her, learned of a dance called the 'Flamenco'. I asked her to show me, and when she did, I thought that it was the most amazing dance that I had ever seen. I asked her to teach me, and she taught me the steps and said, "the rest is up to you". I didn't understand what she said until I went home and tried dancing in front of the mirror. I realized that something was missing.

I practiced all night that night—I even snuck out into the woods on the edge of the grounds so that no one would see or hear me. It was when blisters on my feet started puncturing and bleeding, and I still continued to dance that I realized what I was doing wrong.

I had only been thinking about how I loved dancing, and not about how hard it was—how there were times when one had to try to a painful extent to get it right. The next time I showed my dance to the dancer, she smiled and told me that I had it. I needed to work on my footwork, but as long as the passion was there, I would do well, she told me.

So now, today, I intended to try dancing that on stage. I had had this particular costume made for that. Previously, I had always danced the same ballet dance, only adding new steps and making changes occasionally.

After I had changed, I went to find Granny to explain to her that I was going to need a new record. The music that I had used previously would not work at all with the Flamenco. As long as I could listen to that song once, and then practice once before doing it on stage, I was confident that I wouldn't have a problem.

After all—at that moment, I wasn't Nadja Preminger, heir to the great Preminger Family, but simply Nadja, the dancing girl of Troupe Dandelion. And it was a traveling performer's job to learn quickly. I smiled to myself and did a twirl.

I certainly preferred this Nadja of Troupe Dandelion. No proper manners, no jealous uncles, no strict grandfathers, no stiff and formal meetings… And no Mother. My smile vanished. Mother, in my opinion, was worth everything I didn't like about nobility. I hoped that she wasn't too worried…

I shook my head. I wasn't supposed to be thinking about Mother and worrying—I had to focus on the dance. As I stepped out of the car, Thomas stopped tuning his violin to look at me curiously.

"I don't think you'll be able to do your old dance in that…" he said uncertainly, as though wondering if he had missed something. I instantly felt much more cheerful, and smiled brightly.

"I'm not going to," I told him, and felt excitement bubbling up in a torrent within me. For a moment, I pressed down on it out of habit. Then it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have to.

I was free right now, with no restraints at all. I didn't have to act prim and proper, or hide my emotions, restricting anger to a small frown of disapproval and happiness to a smile or polite laugh.

I laughed out loud and began to twirl. Thomas was silent in surprise for a moment, but when he let out a noise again, it was not a sharp reprimand to behave myself, but a laugh.

"Then I hope that you do well," he grinned at me, and then returned to his violin.

I was tempted to roll into the grass beneath my feet, but knew that I had to find Granny and practice. Besides, I thought with a smile, there would be nothing stopping me from doing just that later.

"Granny!" I called as I walked around the car to the side that I knew the stage would be on.

And I felt faint at what I saw.

Troupe Dandelion usually performed in the main square where people came most. They had occasionally gone to parks or other squares, but this was one location where I was absolutely positive that they had never been.

They were at the edge of a garden. And that garden belonged to the Waltmular mansion.

We were performing right in front of my home.

I panicked. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't say that I wouldn't dance—they would suspect something. But if I did dance, chances were that Mother would see.

I thought for a moment. What was wrong with Mother seeing? I wondered. Nothing, I answered. It would let her know that I was perfectly well. And if I was lucky, I could find a way to tell her that I would be gone for a few weeks, but I would be fine…

These thoughts lifted my spirits again, and I resumed my search for Granny. I found her sitting on the side of the stage, arranging records.

"Granny," I addressed her, but she spoke before I could say any more.

"You need a new song for the Flamenco," she chuckled in her usual omniscient way. "Don't worry, it's right here." And she began to play the record that she had just placed in the record player. To my surprise, it was the song to which I had learned the dance.

"How did you…?" I began to ask. But Granny just chuckled and stopped the record.

"You'd better practice at least once to make sure that you know it properly," said Granny cheerfully, and so I did as she said. Granny was always uncanny, the way that she knew things that a person wouldn't expect her to have known.

Laughing off the strangeness as we all did in the Troupe, I got into the right position as Granny started the record once more.

I danced my dance, noting the parts that I would have to be careful not to get wrong, the parts that I would have to work on in the future, and the parts that I was good enough that I would have to be careful not to get too overconfident. By the time I finished dancing, my head felt much clearer, and I knew that I would try and find some way to tell Mother that I was going to be gone for some time, but would be fine.

Thanking Granny, I returned into the car. I would write a letter, I decided. It would probably be difficult to find the time to have a long conversation with Mother without being found out, but I was sure that I could find a moment to slip her a letter.


	5. The Black Rose Again

Today's You and Tomorrow - Chapter Four: The Black Rose Again

"What on earth do you want? Are you even aware of how late it is?"

"Of course. You wouldn't want the Troupe to know that you're on familiar terms with a thief, would you?"

"It's not like I _decided_ that I wanted to be on familiar terms with you!"

"But you are, and nothing changes that, does it?"

I glared, fuming. I hadn't expected the Black Rose to come knocking on the window when I was just about to leave the bench and go to sleep.

"What do you want?" I repeated, crossing my arms huffily. I couldn't believe that a _thief_ would bother with me so much. What _did_ he want?

"To know what you'll be doing after this," he replied without missing a beat. I stared. It only continued to baffle me as to why a thief would care so much about what happened to me—a noble in disguise.

"Well…" I stalled. Should I tell him? Maybe he meant to try and win my trust first, and then try to get information out of me later? But he wasn't acting that way. I couldn't help but notice that much, and it baffled me even further. "I managed to hand a letter to Francis in the morning, since Mother didn't come to the performance. Then Mother came to the evening performance, and we managed to talk for a few minutes. She gave me some money, and told me that I ought to travel with the Troupe to Italy or even somewhere before that, and then I could come back on my own instead of going on with them all the way." I thought the Black Rose's eyes seemed to sharpen under the mask at the mention of Francis, but brushed it off. It was probably a trick of the light.

"No," said the Black Rose, shaking his head. "You shouldn't come back on your own."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked angrily. "I can take care of myself—I'm not a helpless spoiled noblewoman!" The Black Rose chuckled at that.

"I know. That isn't what I meant. I meant that with your uncle as mad as he probably is, it might not be such a good idea to travel alone." I opened my mouth to say that I didn't think Uncle would do anything drastic, and that I could handle myself, but he continued without a pause. "But tell me: what reason did you give your mother for your leaving for a few weeks? Because from the sound of it, I'm positive that you didn't tell her the truth. She wouldn't have just let you go like that if you had."

"I didn't lie!" I defended instantly. The Black Rose now actually laughed.

"It may have been a white lie to keep her from worrying," he said with a grin, "but it was still a lie. Even twisting the truth or telling half truths are lies when you get right to the point. After all, what the listener is led to understand _isn't_ the truth." I opened my mouth to retort, but then hesitated and looked up at him suspiciously.

"Why are you lecturing me about telling the truth?" I asked. "That sort of thing doesn't matter to thieves." He looked at me steadily for a moment.

"You think that I'm trying to dig out information from you, don't you?" he asked, and I couldn't tell whether he was angry or amused or something else. I could feel my face flush as I averted my eyes. That, apparently, was a good enough answer for him. "Listen." At the same time as I heard his voice, I felt a hand catch my chin and turn my face to look at his. His face was close, and I could see his eyes more clearly than I ever had before, although they were still shielded by the mask. They were definitely blue—bright and dark at once, it seemed—and when my eyes met them, I felt my heart speed up.

Why did his eyes make my heart do that? Why did they make me feel like I ought to remember them? I attributed my racing heart to subconscious fear, although for some reason, I had found that I almost _couldn't_ feel afraid of the Black Rose. I had probably caught a glimpse of his eyes before, I figured at the same time. But his voice tore my thoughts.

"I promise that I'm not trying to get any information out of you. I also promise that I'll never steal from the Houses of Waltmular or Preminger." His tone and what I could see of his face were sincere, and I found myself trusting that promise.

"And what of the House of Corlade?" I asked quietly. He stared for a moment, and I hastened to explain without knowing why. "Uncle married into that house, but my cousin, Uncle's stepson, is the real head of that family. I don't want to ever see Oscar or Aunt Hilda hurt, and every noble from whom you steal is hurt." The Black Rose stared at me for a moment longer, and then sighed.

"Very well. I shall refrain from stealing from your cousin and aunt as well. Now, what did you tell your Mother?" He released my chin as he asked his question, but I hardly noticed as I blushed with shame, remembering the way Mother easily believed me.

"I told her that I was feeling tired with everything that becoming Grandfather's heir brought down on me, and needed some time to be free before I actually had to take over. She promised to hide it from Grandfather."

"And what of this Francis, to whom you gave the letter?" he asked slowly, as though trying to word it properly. I paid this detail no heed, however. "Francis Harcourt, right?"

"Yes, but I told him that I didn't want anyone but Mother to know, and I'm sure that he'll keep it secret." The Black Rose's eyes seemed to sharpen through the mask.

"You know him well, then?" he asked.

"I only met him last night, actually, but I'm sure that I can trust him," I replied confidently with a smile as I remembered him. "He's honest and caring—not like a lot of nobles that you see." The Black Rose opened his mouth, but then closed it and sighed almost inaudibly.

"I see."

There was a silence that lasted for some time, and then I remembered something.

"How was it that I woke up in commoner's clothes this morning?" I asked with an accusing glare. His face was not so close that I could see his eyes as clearly as I could before, but I could see them clearly enough to see him blink.

"Would you have preferred to have the entire Troupe learn your identity, when I've noticed that you seem to prefer to keep secret?" he asked, and he sounded thoroughly bewildered. I could feel blood rushing to my face, but it took a little thought to realize why he sounded so confused.

"What I mean to ask is, who changed me?" I asked quickly, feeling my face grow redder by the second.

The Black Rose stared for a moment more before he burst into laughter. I couldn't even find the will to snap at him for his amusement, and my face only continued to color as he laughed. I probably would have noted that I liked the sound of his laughter if I hadn't been so embarrassed. It was full, and sincere. Not a polite chuckle or a forced laugh, or even a sincere laugh that was simply quiet, but real laughter. However, at that moment, I was too busy being embarrassed to note that.

"That was bothering you?" he asked, and I flushed even further. I was surprised that my face wasn't up in flames. "Rest assured—I simply handed you to Granny as you were, along with the dress you're wearing right now and your dancing dress." I stared, forgetting my embarrassment.

"You took my dancing dress from my room? How did you know where to find it?" I asked in surprise.

"Hiding something under the mattress of the bed is a little typical," he replied with shrug.

"But it was hidden…" I trailed off, staring. I had been positive that that was a hiding place that no one would find unless they knew that it was there…

"You mean the pillowcase that you had covering it so that it would look like part of the mattress?" he asked, and I knew that it was a rhetorical question. He seemed to hesitate before he continued. "I have good eyes."

There was definitely something odd there, but I didn't feel like digging into it. For all I knew, he _did_ simply have good eyes. Then something else occurred to me, and that flew from my mind.

"But there was a commoner's dress in there!" I exclaimed. "Where did this new one come from?" Again, he seemed to hesitate.

"It-" And then a smirk suddenly covered his face as he moved a hand into his cape. "It was lying on your bed with this," he said holding out an envelope. "I thought that even your mother didn't know about your little escapes?"

I took the envelope and stared at it. There was no name on the envelope, and it was unsealed. I opened it and pulled out the paper inside it. The note was short, but I recognized the handwriting at once.

_Nice to know that you still enjoy commoner life, but you could use a new dress. I hope to see you again, my little dancer._

It was Keith's handwriting—I would have known it anywhere. I stared at it, shocked. Then Keith had seen me at some point in the recent past? When? Where? Why hadn't he talked to me?

"Someone you know?"

The voice made me jump—I had temporarily forgotten that he was there. My head shot up to look at him, and found him reading the note with a wide grin on his face.

"Of course it's someone I know!" I said indignantly, snatching the note away, out of his sight. My interaction with Keith was something that I had kept to myself until then, and I preferred to keep it that way. "I just haven't heard from him in years, and so it surprised me!"

The Black Rose's grin widened; he seemed almost triumphant.

"Well then, you had better be getting to bed," he said, the grin not fading one bit. "I'm sure you'll have plenty of pleasant dreams about your mysterious suitor."

"He is _not_ a suitor!" I shouted, but the Black Rose was already running off, his laughter trailing behind him. I rolled my eyes in exasperation as I turned back to the car. Keith? Courting me? I snorted.


	6. Travel

Chapter Five: Travel

The next six days were, for the most part, uneventful. We made it from Vienna to Genoa, only stopping in cities to buy supplies—we only carried enough food to make it to the next city—in addition to the regular break for lunch and to sleep. Our journey was relatively slow, as Leader saw it as being more important to enjoy the journey than hurry and find ourselves exhausted.

I loved watching the scenery go by from the top of the car. From there, I saw all sorts of people and scenes.

I saw dark woods, where the giant trees grew so close together that even on a relatively wide path between them in broad daylight, thick tree branches with large leaves created a canopy that filtered out enough light to make it feel like dusk. Leader muttered in annoyance at this point of our journey, saying that he couldn't see the path well enough, and that it was a danger to us all. At the top of the car, however, Kennosuke, Rita and I lay on our backs and watched the bright daylight flicker beautifully through the dark leaves. It was a perfect contrast of light and shadow, I thought.

When we exited the woods, the sun seemed extraordinarily bright. I sat up and rushed to the edge at the railing to gaze at the fields that seemed to spread out endlessly in the direction we were headed. On that field I saw deer, rabbits, and other small animals that I never thought I would see. I even saw something that looked dimly orange in the distance once, and upon pointing it out to Kennosuke, learned that it was probably a fox.

But my favorite was when we were in various cities. I had seen commoner life of Vienna, but never of any other city. In addition, I had been to cities such as Rome and London with Mother and Grandfather—cities of historical value, where many high-class nobles lived. But never had I been to small cities with nothing special to brag historically, and with few nobles. We even passed through some poor villages, and I found myself almost envying the children there—though poor, they smiled more happily than I had ever seen a child smile in my life, with the exception of Rita.

Whether from the top of the car or as I walked around the city, usually with one or both of Kennosuke and Rita, I felt like I was seeing more of the world than I had ever dreamed to see. I often wondered what sort of people and scenes Mother had seen in the two years that she had with Father. I fully intended to ask her when I returned.

I watched with a smile as a small group of poor folk laughed together as though they were the happiest people in the world. When one of them did not join in the laughter, they all instantly stopped laughing to ask with concern what was the matter. He replied that his wife was sick, and that the doctor did not see much hope for her. All of them looked shocked, and offered their most sincere sympathies. One woman, however—dressed most shabbily of them all—dug into her pocket and pulled out a few coins. The man looked at her in surprise as she held them out to him. He attempted to refuse them, but she would not let him. When he finally took them, tears of gratitude leaked from his eyes, and the woman looked happier than ever.

I watched with a hand over my mouth, shocked, as a noble I knew relatively well slapped a boy in tearing clothing. The boy had come in front of her carriage to prevent two kittens from being trampled by the horses. This had startled the horses, however, and they had reared and moved in opposite directions. Apparently something had snapped, and one of the horses escaped. Madame Montellanne saw fit to blame the loss of her horse on the boy, and I was horrified to see her slap him and call him all sorts of vile names. When I rushed forward to help him, she scoffed at me and insulted me as well, obviously not recognizing me. Appalled, I made a mental note to tell Grandfather not to invite the horrid woman to a ball again, although I had no doubt that he would brush it off as a petty grudge that I ought to get over.

After we reached Genoa, there was more time to look around. The plan, I learned, was to remain in this city for perhaps three days, earning the money we would need for passage to Spain. It was quite expensive, Leader explained, because we would have to ask them to carry the entire car onboard. But I was content, for I still had time to decide whether or not I would go on to Spain, or simply go back to Vienna, and I could look at the city more than any of the others in between performances.

Here, I looked on sadly as I watched a poor girl beg from one person after another, and then take that money to a tavern to get an expensive drink that wasted all the money at once. When I first noticed what she was doing, I caught her arm and tried to reason with her that she could find a decent job and use the money more wisely. However, she only scoffed at me, that there was no good in the world for her. I tried my best to reason with her, but she simply would not listen.

I was shocked when I saw Francis with Maryann in an orphanage I stopped by at. The children looked so happy as they played, and noticed me watching wistfully. They asked me what I was doing, and I explained that I had never had any siblings, and thought that they were very lucky to have so many. The children giggled and said that they were not siblings, but I smiled and told them that though they may not be connected by blood, they seemed like siblings to me. As I talked with them, I felt closer to them, and eventually ended up joining them in their games.

Then I saw Francis and Maryann exiting the building with the headmistress. Shocked, I asked the children if they knew who those people were. They explained that 'Master Francis' had had a library constructed for them. I smiled at the thought—there may be unkind nobles like Madame Montellanne, I thought, but there were also kind and caring ones like Francis. I considered approaching them, but decided against it. Francis had been slightly surprised to see me as a dancing girl, but when I explained the situation (giving him the same explanation that I gave Mother, of course), he laughed and said that he wished that he could do so as well. I was not sure that Maryann, more proper and noble-like, would be very pleased with this. So I slipped away as Maryann knelt by one child with a smile to ask kindly about him, and the other children gathered around, awed that such an elegant lady and gentleman would speak to them personally.

However, there was still one source of annoyance amongst all this: the Black Rose. He insisted on following wherever the Troupe went. When I told him, annoyed, that Uncle was far away and wouldn't be able to do me any harm, he said that he had snuck into the Corlade Manor to see Uncle. Apparently, he believed that there was a possibility that Uncle was unstable in the mind, and no matter how I insisted angrily that I was fine, he would not leave. So in the end, we spent every night arguing. By the second night on the road, I had decided to wait for him outside. Not because I _wanted_ him to come, but because I _knew_ that he would come, and his knocking on the window every night could easily lead to the Troupe discovering my nightly visitor.

Even as I enjoyed the travels, guilt gnawed away at me on the inside. I was lying to the Troupe about my identity and deliberately keeping my closest confidant (grudgingly, I had to concede that that was what the Black Rose had unintentionally become) a secret from them. I had lied to Mother and Francis about my reason for leaving, and was deliberately hiding the fact that I had run away at all from Maryann.

But somehow, of all those things, I found that while I had never intended the Black Rose to know as much as he did, I did not regret telling him anything. He always seemed to know what to do, and even as I shouted at him nightly and he chuckled at me, I found myself telling him more and more every night. This fact was no comfort to me. I could not believe that I would ever feel close to a _thief_ of all people. I still did all I could to stop my defenses from crumbling in his presence, and was failing more and more miserably.

I had never, however, worked up the courage to ask the Black Rose why he stole. It was not that I didn't want to, for it was one of the things that I wanted to ask him most of all. I understood well that he only stole from the rich who were unjust, and gave that money to the poor. But why steal? I could not help but wonder. There were other ways to do such things. I knew a number of people that he had stolen from, and knew that were he caught, he would almost certainly be killed.

But…

"_Stealing is just wrong! It's against the law, and it hurts people!" Nadja shouted angrily._

"_Even things that are considered 'right' kill people sometimes!" Keith snapped back. Nadja recoiled, startled by the sharp vehemence in his voice. "Taxes are perfectly legal, and yet they kill the poor on a regular basis, starving them! My Mother died of something considered 'right'! It was 'right' for her to stay in England as Lady Harcourt and run the house! Yet she wanted to see the world, and died without being able to ever take a single step out of England!" Nadja was speechless. Keith glared at her for a moment more._

"'_Right' and 'wrong' in the world's sense hardly say anything. Everything can hurt a person, and everything can help a person. It's all about the way it's done; the intentions; the results." There was another pause. "Go back to your classes," Keith spat out. And then he turned his back and began to stomp away._

_He heard the light footsteps first, and realized that Nadja was coming after him. He quickened his step, but to his surprise, Nadja, upon reaching him, did not try to apologize and comfort him. Instead, he found himself frozen in shock as she ran to stand in front of him, and then embraced him gently, resting her head on his shoulder._

_Keith stared down at Nadja. Was this supposed to be an apology? Or a plea for forgiveness? Had it been either, he probably would have shoved her away and stomped off again. But this didn't feel like either, he realized. She was simply embracing him with a sort of compassion that he had not felt in years—since his mother's death, in fact. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her as well, and they stood like that for some time. Then Nadja spoke._

"_I'm sorry about your mother," she said quietly. Then she looked up at him with a glare. "But I still think it was wrong to steal from that man."_

_Keith stared down at her for a few moments. And then he burst into full-blown laughter for the first time that day, and tightened his arms around Nadja. She was unique, this girl. He decided then and there that even if he managed to run away from this world, he would never abandon Nadja._

_And Nadja, though she did not know it at the time, was moved enough by his words and strong conviction that those words ensured that he would remain strong in her memory for years._

What if the Black Rose's reason for stealing was something that would be, like Keith had said, something that would make it seem 'right' despite its being 'wrong' in the sense of the world. I dreaded that, for the Black Rose had a strong enough grip on me as it was. If his reason were valid in my mind, I feared what would become of me.

But for now, I smiled as I walked through the city's streets and enjoyed what time I had to see the world. It really was a place much more fascinating than I had ever imagined.


	7. The Black Rose Yet Again

Chapter Six: The Black Rose Yet Again

As I sat on the step waiting for the Black Rose as I did every night, I fidgeted impatiently. Normally, he appeared only shortly after I exited the car; at times he even appeared as soon as I did. But tonight he had not appeared at all, and I was sure that I had waited for nearly half an hour.

Perhaps he had simply decided not to come, I thought. But that thought held no strength, for that was not like the Black Rose that I had come to know over the course of the past week. The Black Rose that I knew did not leave something abruptly once he had decided to carry out the task, and he had quite obviously adopted making sure that I returned home safely as a personal task.

Finally, I decided to go looking for him. I doubted that Uncle would—as the Black Rose warned me time and time again—send out people to ensure that I did not return, and I was confident enough after two days of exploring this city that I would not get lost.

I had not, however, anticipated the way that the city seemed completely different in the silent darkness. Even the marketplace, loud and crowded by day, was deserted and silent, and for a moment I failed to recognize it. Darkness did not usually frighten me, but the way that it seemed to transform this entire city was more than unnerving.

I was just considering turning back and forgetting about the Black Rose—he was sure to come tomorrow, after all—when a familiar voice met my ears. I froze. Though I could not make out the words, I was sure that it was the Black Rose's voice. It seemed to becoming from an alley. I hesitated for a moment before I entered.

As I walked down the narrow street, following the voice, I suddenly recognized it. It was the alley that I had entered the day before, on our first day in Genoa, when I was trying to talk sense into the beggar girl. The voice that I followed was now coherent, and the tone was deceptively calm.

"-people. Is that what you want? To live your life pointlessly?"

"I'll do what I like," snapped another familiar voice angrily. I reached the corner at the end of the alley and looked around it. Sure enough, there stood the Black Rose and the beggar girl. "You think you know everything. Well, I'm not listening to you. I know what kind of life is happiest to me, and no one else can."

"Then you actually feel happy begging and drinking all day?" The Black Rose's voice was still calm. I had never known him to grow angry. The girl snorted in response to his words.

"You're saying the same things as that other girl!" she huffed. I felt my face grow pink—I knew that she was talking about me. I wondered if the Black Rose had guessed, but his back was to me and I could not see his face.

"Other girl?" the Black Rose asked, and his tone sounded slightly sharp, but curious at the same time.

"Some blond-haired girl. She followed me here and tried to convince me to start trying to work and lead a more 'purposeful life'." Her tone was mocking. "Well, this life is purposeful enough to me! Don't stick your noses into my business!"

"Why do you prefer drinking?" asked the Black Rose.

"Why do you steal?" countered the girl. The Black Rose chuckled.

"How about this—you tell me why you drink, and then I'll tell you why I steal." I saw the girl scoff.

"I'm not interested." I heard the Black Rose sigh.

"Here." I saw him hold out his hand, and after some hesitation, the girl slowly held out hers. There was a clinking, and I realized that he was handing her coins. She looked shocked. "I've said all I can. The rest is up to you. You can choose to spend these on more drinks, if you like. Or you could choose to use those to help people, or to get yourself a proper meal and proper clothing and then search for a proper job. It's your choice."

I knew that he was going to turn and come back down this alley, and hastily pulled back and searched for a place to hide. Suddenly, I didn't want him to see me. But he turned the corner and, seeing me, stopped in surprise.

"Nadja? What are you doing here?"

"…You were late, and I was a little…" I mumbled my words, and a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me.

"Worried?" His voice was very amused, and I suddenly wished I'd never said anything at all. "You were worried? And here I thought that you'd be happy to see me drop dead."

"Of course not!" He was only teasing and I knew it, but it still was appalling to think that he would think that I would be happy to see him dead. "After all, you _have_… Well, you've been helping me"-I averted my eyes-"and as much as I hate your stealing, I'd never want to see you dead. I'd never wish anyone dead."

"No, you wouldn't, would you?" he said softly, and I looked to him again. He was smiling, and it almost seemed as though he was looking at me _affectionately_.

"I'm going back to the Troupe," I said suddenly, turning and beginning to walk. I had intended the words to come out angrily, but they were hardly menacing at all. I heard the Black Rose following behind me.

"So, you tried to talk some sense into that girl, too."

"Was that another guess, or have you taken to following me around by daylight also, now?" I was feeling increasingly irritable. There were multiple reasons for it.

For one thing, the Black Rose knew me too well. Of all the people that could have come to learn to read me so well, why did it have to be a despicable thief? And that was another thing—no matter how I called the Black Rose all sorts of names in my mind, I cared about him. Now I thought about it, it had been worry that had driven me to follow him.

And the Black Rose wasn't replying. He knew that I wasn't in a good mood, and that no matter how he replied, I would use it as an excuse to snap at him. At this rate, all I needed was for his reason for stealing to be something that justified it in my mind, and… But what _was_ his reason?

"Why do you steal?" I suddenly stopped and spun around to face him. The question was serious, and I knew that he knew it. He was silent for a few moments, but his eyes remained steadily upon me.

"Because all people, rich and poor, ought to be equal. The rich live their lives without any point day after day, and the poor struggle to survive day after day. Yet the rich continue to gain more money from the poor, and the poor continue to lose more money to the rich. I restore that money to the poor."

"But there are other ways to do that!" I argued. "Nobles often collect money for charity, and there are people like Francis who use their own money as well as collected money to do things for the poor!"

"Francis again, is it?" the Black Rose said mockingly. I stared at him in surprise. He actually sounded angry, and I had never heard him sound that way before. "Know this, Nadja: most of the time, half of the money collected for charity goes to the one who collected it, and only half of it is actually given to the poor. As for this _Francis_ of yours, all he does is hand money down from above! That sort of charity only satisfies the one doing the giving."

"And you're saying that your method is any better? You _steal_. I've seen nobles you stole from; they were left with wounded pride, and socially lost many friends and allies. Are you saying that a bit of temporary happiness for the poor is worth permanently wounding the rich?" His eyes flashed at my words.

"I should have known that a spoiled noble like yourself wouldn't actually care sincerely for the poor. It's all words to you. After all, after another week you'll be back safe and sound inside your manor, right?" I hadn't anticipated how much those words stung, but was too infuriated to care.

"Don't you presume to know the way I think," I snapped back. "You're just biased in favor of the poor. You don't actually believe in equality!"

"I certainly believe in it more than you appear to," he hissed. "I know more about both nobility and the poor than you do, anyhow."

And then he turned and vanished into the darkness before I could say anything more.


	8. Both

Chapter Seven: Both

I was still fuming the next day. I managed to banish the anger long enough to perform, but as soon as I got offstage, I heard Kennosuke and Rita whispering excitedly about how the Black Rose had stolen from some noble in this city and I found myself fuming again.

Granny, who knew all as always, suggested that I go for a walk. I took the offer with relief. Over the course of that morning, I had already snapped at Kennosuke for trivial things more than a few times, which had resulted in quite a few arguments. I wasn't usually the type to remain angry for long periods of time, but the Black Rose had struck a nerve.

As much as I enjoyed commoner life and it never ceased to fascinate me, I thought of Mother everyday. Even as I enjoyed life with Troupe Dandelion, there were times when I couldn't wait for another week to pass so that I could go back to her. Did that make me what he had said of me? Did I truly enjoy life as a noble more than that of a commoner?

I couldn't answer that myself.

I slowed my footsteps. I knew that I had been unfair in my accusations the previous day. The Black Rose's reason was perfectly understandable to me. Perhaps that had gotten on my nerves, and, already irritable, I had simply needed to let out my frustration before I admitted that.

But would I even get a chance to admit it now? He had obviously been frustrated as well, although I didn't know whether it was with me or with the girl.

Usually, walking among people was something I enjoyed in the cities, with the excitement and varying looks. Today, however, I wanted nothing more than to go somewhere alone, so I turned into a quiet small street. I walked along it and other small streets that turned off of it for a while, muttering to myself and letting my words and rapid footsteps release my anger little by little.

Suddenly, I became aware of footsteps other than my own. Hastily, I stopped muttering. What would people think of me? I quickened my footsteps, hoping to leave the nameless faceless person behind and return to the Troupe. But to my surprise, as I quickened my steps, so did those of the person behind me.

I uneasily glanced back to see that the person was a man. He was a little short and rather thin, and his clothing was nothing out of the ordinary. However, he wore a hat low over his eyes as well as sunglasses, and his hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his baggy trousers. Somehow, there was an air about him that made me fear him.

So I turned my eyes back to the direction in which I was headed, and resolved to simply get back to the Troupe as quickly as I could.

To my relief, when I glanced over my shoulder a little before reached the Troupe, I could not see the man on the crowded street.

"Feeling better, Nadja?" asked Granny with her ever-present smile when I finally got back.

"Yes, I walked off my frustration," I told her, smiling sheepishly. Then I turned to Kennosuke where he was playing with Rita as he shot furtive nervous glances my way. "Sorry for snapping at you so much this morning. I was feeling a little angry."

"A little?!" snorted Kennosuke. I sighed mentally. Apparently, my irritable mood had rubbed off on him. "That was not a little angry."

"Well, sorry for snapping at you anyway," I attempted. Kennosuke, however, glared and opened his mouth to deliver what would obviously be an insult. We probably would have ended up having a yelling match had Rita not had the good sense to step in.

"Kennosuke, she just apologized," said Rita in a very annoyed tone of voice. "Can't you just be nice?"

"I certainly don't feel like listening to silly arguments for what's left of the day," Arvell added from the makeshift stove a little way away. We took turns making meals, and today's supper was Arvell's turn.

Kennosuke glanced at Arvell, and for a moment, I thought that he would start an argument anyway. But instead, he sighed and looked at me sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, too. I've been in a bad mood also." I grinned at him. As I did, I could hear Sylvie breathe a sigh of relief behind me.

I looked around to apologize to her and the rest of the Troupe as well, since our arguments that morning seemed to have annoyed everyone. But the words died in my throat the moment I turned.

The man that had been behind me as I walked in the city was standing at the edge of the square where our car was located, and he appeared to be watching us. I stared, not too sure of how to feel. Should I be worried or nervous? Or was this the sort of situation in which I ought to feel outright terrified?

"Nadja? What's wrong?" Sylvie's voice jolted me back into reality, and I turned my eyes to her worriedly.

"Does that man seem odd to you?" I asked, pointing. She turned, but as I turned my eyes back to the corner, I found that the man was no longer there. "That's strange…" I murmured to myself. Or had he not been there from the beginning? Were the Black Rose's warnings and worries about what _could_ happen getting to me so much that I was beginning to think that way as well?

"Is something wrong, Nadja?" asked Granny, and turning, I saw that the omnipresent smile was not omnipresent after all. It had vanished in a worried expression that still held the omniscient look. Suddenly, I felt affection for Granny well up in my chest. She knew from where I came, and yet she never spoke of it to me or anyone else. In addition, she worried for me despite the knowledge that I was not telling them all the whole truth.

For the first time since I left Mother, I felt truly and completely at home.

"No, nothing at all," I told her, forgetting my worries completely.

Though the rest of the day went smoothly, when night came, the worries returned to me. They began with wondering whether or not I ought to go outside and wait for the Black Rose despite our fight the previous night. Then I wondered if it was safe, with the possibility that that strange man was still nearby. Soon, I was pacing the car in the space that was equivalent to a living room after everyone else was already in their bunks and fast asleep.

Finally, I decided to go out and wait. I would just sit on the doorstep in front of the car's door, and if he didn't come after ten minutes or so, I would come back in and go to sleep. As long as I didn't leave the car completely, I ought to be safe even if the man was both in the vicinity and dangerous, I figured. I was terribly wrong.

It happened the moment that I had closed the door quietly and moved to sit down on the doorstep.

"Get out of the way!"

I was so surprised to hear the Black Rose's voice so soon that I completely failed to even comprehend what he had said. But he was already moving.

By the time the gunshot rang out, the Black Rose had already swept me up into his arms and leapt into the shadow of the car.

"Don't move from here," he whispered urgently as he left me beside a wheel. Then, in a single leap, he was on the top of the car. Heeding his words, I sat still and silent. I heard a thud and a grunt, followed by a clatter and the sound of running footsteps that faded.

Then I heard footsteps calmly approaching. Terrified, I froze. When the black cape fluttered into view around the side of the car, I heaved a sigh of relief even before the Black Rose walked around the corner.

"Are you all right?" he asked gently, kneeling in front of me. I nodded, eyes wide.

My mind was in a torrent. Had that loud sound been…a gunshot? Did that mean that someone was actually trying to _kill_ me? Then had the Black Rose been right in what he said about Uncle?

"Then…Uncle Hermann…" I tried to ask if Uncle was actually trying to kill me, but the words wouldn't come. Before I knew it, I was trembling uncontrollably.

"We don't know," said the Black Rose firmly. "For all we know, the guy could have been a simple serial killer." He stroked my hair soothingly as he spoke, and I felt the trembling subside. Along with the trembles, the confusion in my mind gradually faded as well.

And it occurred to me that I had been terrible to him the previous night, and yet he had protected me tonight as though nothing else had mattered.

"Why?" I asked. His hand ceased its soothing moments as he looked at me quizzically. "Why do you keep helping me? I thought that you hated nobility, and yet you keep helping me. Even after all I said to you yesterday, you still came to help me." There was a pause.

"Do you not know?" he asked quietly. Somehow, he seemed a little sad. But I didn't really pay attention to that.

"Of course not!" I told him, bewildered. How was I supposed to know why he helped me? A small, sad smile curled at his lips. It was slightly bitter, and seemed to remind me of another, similar smile in my memory…

But before I could ponder that any further, he reached out to place one of his palms on my cheek. I could only stare.

"This is why," he whispered, but I had hardly registered the words when I felt a pressure against my lips. It only took a moment for me to realize that he was kissing me.

I reacted instinctively. I slapped him. It effectively tore his mouth from mine, and I could see his cheek go white, and then slowly grow redder, even in the darkness. I winced. I hadn't meant to hit that hard…

And then what had just happened truly registered in my mind. I stared, wide-eyed. But he did not leave, and only looked down at me seriously.

"You…you like me?" I asked quietly, feeling like a little child. I could see his eyes close behind the mask as he snorted.

"'Like'?" he said in a tone that I couldn't quite describe. "Oh, of course I like you. Why would I dedicate so much time and effort for someone I didn't like? What I was attempting to communicate, however, is that I love you."

I blinked. My mind whirled. Nothing seemed to register. And then it clicked.

"Love?" I said. Or rather, tried to say. It came out in more of a strangled squeak. "But…we barely know each other! We only met a few weeks ago!" I didn't know what I was saying. My mouth was moving, trying to make sense of the situation on its own, while my mind worked separately elsewhere.

"Is that so?" His tone was odd. As though I had just said something that he had expected, but hoped I wouldn't say. He sighed, and a hand reached up to the black top hat and mask. As I watched with no idea what to think, he pulled them off and looked at me unmasked for the first time—in six years.

For I knew that face. That hair. That expression. And above all, those eyes that sparkled like stars. Logically, it probably should have crossed my mind that this was Francis. But it never did. The expression wasn't Francis's, and those eyes held something that Francis's didn't.

"Keith…" My voice was no more than a whisper, but the night was silent. He gave me a small smile.

"Nadja." Now that I thought about it, I'd never told him my name, had I? And yet, he had known it. Even used it a number of times. And he'd always known more about me that he should have…

I felt as though I would collapse in a faint, but refused to do so in an act of sheer willpower. If I did, I knew that the Black Rose—Keith—would catch me, and I didn't want that. At that particular moment, he was already too close.

"You…you _lied_…" I muttered. He looked at me for a moment, and then sighed and shook his head.

"I never said that I wasn't me," he said quietly. "I've been dropping hints since after our first meeting when I was the Black Rose."

"Since our second meeting?" I asked. My mind seemed to be having a little trouble getting around this revelation.

"No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I recognized you in the alleyway, shortly after you yelled at me about stealing. After that, I took to watching you at times."

"_Watching_…?" I asked, alarmed. He looked at me for a moment, and then gave a small chuckle.

"Just sometimes. The first night I snuck onto the grounds, I only intended to look at you as you slept, to confirm my suspicion. But you weren't in your room. But when I wandered into the woods, I saw you practicing your dancing as stubbornly as ever."

I felt my face beginning to heat up slightly. There had only ever been one time that I'd done that, and that was when I was practicing the Flamenco. To know that he had been watching… I averted my eyes.

After another silence, Keith was the one to speak.

"You ought to go back in and get some sleep now," he said quietly. I nodded, but neither of us moved.

I still had no idea what to think. Keith had always been someone that I admired greatly, who was locked in my memory, and who I wished to see again, but was more imagination and memory than reality. The Black Rose was someone that I trusted but did not want to like, who was helpful and yet quite annoying most of the time. But when I thought about it, there had always been similarities. The teasing insults, the steadfast belief, even the way that we argued… Yet, they still seemed like two separate identities.

We sat in silence for a short while, and then Keith stood, helping me up beside him. He led me, dazed as I was, around the car, where we stood in silence again at the entrance. After a few moments, I opted to simply enter. Neither of us was saying anything, and there was nothing that I could think of to say. But as I turned, his hand caught my arm.

"Nadja." I turned to look at him. His eyes were solemn, and I knew what he was thinking. He didn't want to part this way—silent and confused. "Goodnight," he said after a few moments of hesitation.

I stared for a moment. Then I gave a small smile.

"Goodnight," I replied. He gave me another small smile, released my arm, and turned to leave.

"You know what you said about why you help me?" I suddenly asked. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder in surprise. I was terrified at myself. I knew what I _wanted_ to ask, but it wasn't something that I ought to. Those words had slipped from my mouth almost without my permission.

"That I love you," he replied in a monotone that hid his emotions. His head had hardly even turned—he seemed to be looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I felt the whirlwind of emotions that had just begun to calm down start up again at those words.

"Is it Keith or the Black Rose that feels that way?" Again, the words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them, or even refine them. His head turned further so that I could see his face completely. His eyes were wide with surprise, and for a moment, I thought he would be angry.

But instead, a natural smile spread across his face as he looked at me.

"Both," he replied. And then he turned and walked away.


	9. Hide and Seek

Today's You and Tomorrow - Chapter Eight: Hide-and-Seek

I couldn't believe it, late the next morning, that I was actually still in the Troupe's car (well, technically I was _on_ it), heading back for Vienna. I had thought that my revelation would have at least brought _some_ drama. But it didn't. None whatsoever. I told them the entire truth, and then they were discussing how to get back to Vienna before Uncle Hermann got too crazy and…and staged my death or actually killed me or something. There wasn't anything in between. Oh, of course they were surprised. But they took it in stride.

It was times like these that I felt that Troupe Dandelion was more family to me than Grandfather or Uncle Hermann would ever be.

Sitting on the top of the car, I was lost in thought as I watched the clouds float by. Leader, Sylvie, and everyone else had made it perfectly clear that I was welcome to join them at any given time. I was starting to think that perhaps I could convince Mother to come along, and then maybe…

But she would just be a burden. Troupe Dandelion wasn't exactly well off, and didn't have the means to take care of additional people who couldn't earn their own keep. Not that Mother couldn't do anything. She played the piano beautifully and sang like an angel, and in her days with my father as well as after his death, she had made her way as a seamstress. But a piano was not a portable instrument like Thomas's fiddle; there was already a singer, Sylvie, who sang as well as, if not better than, Mother did; and a seamstress didn't really have much place with a traveling circus, particularly considering how Granny could work wonders with a needle and thread.

What was I to do? I was dying to stay with Troupe Dandelion. If not for Mother, I'm quite sure I never would have returned again. But how could I leave Mother, the way things were? Under different circumstances, perhaps, I would have returned to say goodbye and then left with the Troupe, returning only to visit. Mother did, after all, have Albert to look after her. But given the current circumstances… Albert's 'looking after' Mother was not exactly the 'looking out for life-threatening danger among other things' way that Keith looked after me…

The thought made me halt. I had been avoiding thinking about Keith all morning. But how could I avoid him forever?

Keith. The Black Rose. My savior the thief, who was also a sort-of childhood friend of mine. It was all so strange.

But I didn't feel like thinking about it at that particular moment. Just starting to think about it was already giving me a headache. I had too much to worry about without starting to question Keith's incentives, or trying to figure out what I felt for him, seeing as how he…

No. Bad train of thought. The last thing I needed at the moment was a mind clouded with emotional confusion. Honestly, couldn't Keith have had the sense to keep the turmoil at bay until a calmer time? Like after all this mess had ended, preferably?

But then again, his mere presence as the Black Rose had sent me into mental _and_ emotional turmoil time and time again. Maybe this was an improvement? No—I was even more distracted than before, considering I couldn't seem to escape this train of thought.

Still…

"_So…I guess this is goodbye, then." Nadja didn't bother to hide her sadness. "I don't suppose we'll be able to see much of each other anytime soon. I don't know what they do to punish you, but I'm sure I shall suffer a thrashing and then be under close watch for a week; perhaps longer."_

_Keith scowled at the thought. "They shouldn't be thrashing you for one day of missed classes. If you were constantly causing trouble like I am, it would be another story, but you…"_

_His expression was unreadable as he reached out and pulled her into the first hug that he had initiated that day. Nadja laughed as she returned the hug, oblivious to Keith's inner guilt at the thought that he would be leaving now—it was a perfect opportunity; no one had any idea where he was, and hadn't all day. There was little or no chance of them finding him and dragging him back this time._

"_You're from Wien, right?" asked Keith as he pulled away. Nadja smiled and nodded. "Well then." He lifted her hand and touched his lips to it with an elegant bow. "Gutennacht, Fraulein Nadja."_

"_Good night, Lord Keith," laughed Nadja, replying in English with a perfect English accent._

_He backed away, and with one last wave, disappeared into the darkness. Nadja turned with a smile to return to her dormitory. Suddenly, the inevitable thrashing didn't seem like anything terrible at all. At the very least, it was worth a day spent with someone like Keith. She couldn't wait to speak with him again._

Had he loved me then? I wondered. Or had that come later?

I shook the thoughts from my head as the car stopped, and stood to run energetically down back into the car.

"I'm afraid we can't make the return trip much faster than the trip coming this far," Leader said to me when I came down. "I know we haven't come very far, but I'm going to have to get some more supplies here—we started out so abruptly that we don't have very much."

"That's fine," I replied with the most cheerful smile I could give under the current circumstances. Which was pretty cheerful, if you considered that my life was possibly under serious threat on account of my own uncle. But Leader had told me something to a similar effect as we departed; and the situation didn't disappoint me in the least anyhow. Rather, I could scarcely believe my luck. "I never thought I'd be able to go back with all of you—that's much more heartening than speed."

"We couldn't abandon you when we knew that your life was in danger," said Sylvie reprovingly. "Honestly, you ought to have told us sooner, before you were actually shot at. An angry uncle isn't anything to underestimate."

"I don't think any crazy people should be underestimated," muttered Kennosuke, earning a glare from Arvell and Sylvie.

"No, Uncle Hermann's definitely lost his marbles," I said quickly. "I don't think there's much doubt about that. But I never really liked him anyway."

"Nadja…" Sylvie placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I smiled up at her. "You know that if things get too rough at home, you'll always have a place with us, right?"

"Of course," I replied, beaming. I had already known, but it still felt good to actually hear it from someone else's mouth. "Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank, Nadja," Arvell said gently. "You've been a member of this family ever since you started dancing with us every time we came to Vienna."

My smile widened. Maybe I would come, just after I had made sure that Mother was alright. But first something had to be done about Uncle Hermann.

My smile fell. No matter how comforting Keith had tried to be, I highly doubted that someone who had been obviously focusing his attack on me was just choosing targets at random; there had to be plenty of other girls my age wandering the streets. If he was specifically targeting me, then really, who could be behind it but Uncle Hermann? There was no one else who would have anything to gain by my death who I could even remotely believe would do such a thing.

Not that I had ever believed Uncle Hermann capable of murder. But who else could it be? Oscar was like a brother to me; Aunt Hilda was timid and delicate, but kinder than anyone; Mother and Albert were simply out of the question; Grandfather, whether or not he actually had any affection for me, needed me alive to be his heir. And as for other nobles…well, there were the nasty ones, like Fernando, but I could think of no reason why they should want to kill me. This was not one of Grandfather or Mother's novels, with mystery and intrigue everywhere. It was reality, and in reality, things were different—one does not go around suspecting everyone.

But Uncle Hermann was one man. I had Troupe Dandelion and the Black Rose protecting me now, and I knew that Oscar, Aunt Hilda, and Grandfather, not to mention Mother and Albert, would doubtlessly side with me given the situation. Even if he had some hired help, he was out numbered.

The thought lifted my spirits.

——————————

"Walking alone again? Isn't that a little careless of you, seeing as how you were just shot at last night?"

I didn't even look at the man who had fallen in step beside me. It was Keith, of course. Unmasked. Of course, walking around wearing the Black Rose's mask in broad daylight wasn't exactly 'inconspicuous'. "You're always watching me. I'm not all that worried."

"What faith," said Keith dryly, and I knew he was rolling his eyes. "So you expect me not to take my eyes off you for a single second, no matter how distracted I may get with hunger or fatigue, so that you can wander around alone and feel safe?"

I stopped walking to turn and glare at him. His eyes were sparkling as he smirked. I narrowed my eyes, and his smirk widened. I huffed and resumed walking. I was positive that any argument I attempted would be turned on me. (Even if it _was_ careless of me to be walking alone. But I was under constant watch by Keith, and Keith was careful enough for the both of us, if you asked me. Besides, it wasn't as though Keith _or_ the Black Rose had asked if he could watch me as closely as if he were my bodyguard.)

"Assuming that I _do_ watch you that closely," Keith went on, "and no harm comes to you, what does Troupe Dandelion think? Unless you told them that you're being followed around by the most wanted thief in Europe, of course, which I highly doubt."

"Of course I didn't tell them," I huffed. "And I convinced them that the only attacks I've endured were when I was alone in the middle of the night—oh, don't look at me like that, the person obviously _thought_ I was alone last night—so there wasn't any harm in my taking a walk alone."

"And they didn't insist on someone else coming along, just to be safe?"

"Of course they did. I told them that I needed some time to think alone."

"That doesn't explain _why_ they listened to you."

I felt my face turning red, and I could just _feel_ the smirk radiating from Keith. Well, I wasn't telling him that I'd told the members of the Troupe with a full-fledged smile that I had my own guardian angel who would never let me down. Considering I'd gotten away the night before, they pretty much had to believe that even as I refused to tell them more about this 'guardian angel'. Even if Keith knew from my flush that I had said something to that effect, I was _not_ telling him what I'd actually said.

Keith laughed; probably at the determination that I let out into my expression.

"Anyhow, you've got another friend in town," Keith told me. "Two, maybe."

I looked up at him curiously. "Friends? Who?"

"Francis Harcourt and Maryann Hamilton."

Oh! They were here? Perhaps I would go and talk to them—to Francis, at least. I wasn't sure exactly how Maryann would react to my current situation. Of course I wouldn't tell her about Uncle Hermann, but the fact that I was dressed as and acting like a commoner could quite possibly send her up a wall.

And then something occurred to me. "Keith—you know the two of them, don't you?"

He looked at me like I had grown another head. "No, Nadja. I grew up in an isolated jail cell and was never acquainted with my twin brother or our childhood friend."

"That 'our' just made the entire sentence grammatically incorrect."

"Can't you ever catch a joke?"

"Yes, when they're funny!"

Keith rolled his eyes. "How will we ever get along?" But seeing as how my arm was currently looped through his and we were both smiling, that wasn't actually much of a problem. "So, would you like to go see them?"

"Of course! Where are they?"

"There," Keith replied without missing a beat. He was pointing at a small cluster of cottages down the street, where 'town' began to turn into 'countryside'.

"An orphanage?" I guessed.

"As always," he replied.

We reached the orphanage, and I walked over to a tree to sit down and wait.

"Aren't you going in?" asked Keith with raised brows.

"I wouldn't want to interrupt anything or be a nuisance. I'll wait here until they come out. We're spending the rest of the day in town anyway, since one of the spare parts Leader needs will take the store some time to obtain, and we can't just attempt to cross the mountains without it."

Keith 'hm'ed as he looked thoughtfully up at the tree.

"Remember that tree we climbed?" he asked suddenly. "After we waltzed?"

I looked up at the tree I was sitting beneath. Yes, there was quiet a resemblance. Except… "That tree must have been quite a bit smaller. It looked this big when I was ten."

"But it was one of the tallest tree in the grove—we could see over all the other trees, remember?"

"Maybe it was more like a bush-grove."

Keith grinned. "Yes, maybe we'd call it that now."

"_You mean you actually climb trees?" Keith was staring up at her. If he had been anyone else, he would have been slack-jawed._

"_What's so shocking about it?" asked a puzzled Nadja, looking down at him from the branch where she stood, ready to climb up even further. "Haven't you ever climbed a tree?"_

"_Of course! It's just so…" Keith searched for the right word. "…unladylike."_

_Nadja stopped in the middle of a scramble to get up to a higher branch to glare down at him. "I thought you didn't care about things like that."_

"_I don't," Keith snorted, crossing his arms. "But everything you've been doing—dancing, arguing that I shouldn't be stealing… Even when you're unladylike, you boarder heavily on 'ladylike'. But this is just…_completely_ unladylike."_

"_Thank you," said Nadja, sticking her tongue out at him._

"_That was even less ladylike." Keith thought he heard her reply with a grumble that sounded suspiciously like, "Good riddance." but he couldn't be sure._

"_I win!" Nadja chirped cheerfully as she sat down on the highest branch that was thick enough to be sure to hold her weight._

"_What? You never said it was a race!"_

"_But I was thinking it."_

"_That doesn't count."_

"_If your 'thinking' that your running through that hedge was a race that you insist you won, then my 'thinking' that my climbing to the top of the tree while you're still at the bottom is a race that I insist I won."_

_Keith scowled and began pulling himself up. He was seated beside Nadja fairly quickly._

"_There. I won. I got up here faster."_

"_No you didn't! I was up here first!"_

"_Speed's what counts in races. I was faster."_

"_Only because no one was talking to you and making you stop!"_

"_So? I never told you to stop."_

"_That's cheating and you know it!"_

Smiling to myself, I stood and jumped up to grasp the lowest branch—a thick limb a little higher than my head. Pulling myself up, I continued on my way to a thick branch near the top…where Keith pulled me up with a smirk.

"I _definitely_ win this time," he said to me.

I glared, but really, there was no arguing with that.

We sat on the branch in silence, watching the sun reflect on the glossy leaves that were swaying in the wind. I had to wonder at how comfortable it felt. Keith had just confessed love—not a mere 'like' or 'caring', but love—to me the previous night, and revealed himself to be the Black Rose, whom I hated. So shouldn't there be more lack of comfort.

Yet such thoughts only skimmed the surface of my mind and then were gone. All I felt was the wind in my hair, my skirt fluttering around my ankles, the warmth radiating off of Keith, who was right next to me. It all felt so comfortable that I almost didn't realize.

Then came the moment of horror, when it occurred to me that acting like this when I knew how Keith felt about me was like I was saying that I felt the same. And then, for a moment in my befuddled mind, I thought that I _did_ love him.

No! That just couldn't be right! I barely knew him, and he was the Black Rose, and-

And the subconscious jerk of my body when I realized what I was thinking made me lose my balance on the branch. I began to tumble backwards. But an arm caught me around the waist just as I was about to fully fall from the branch. I opened the eyes that I hadn't realized I'd closed to see Keith looking at me reproachfully.

"Be careful." There was an emotion in his voice—a strong one—but I couldn't identify it. "You could have broken your neck if I hadn't been watching you."

'Watching me'? Did he _have_ to go and raise that turmoil of emotions again every chance he got?

"Sorry," I mumbled. I was back on balance, but Keith didn't remove his arm. Whether it was supposed to be meant as support so as not to run the risk of my almost falling again or an expression of affection, it made me feel rather…warm and fuzzy, and I wanted to stay that way. And that emotion made me want to leap down off the tree, ignore whatever broken bones I suffered, and run as far away from him as I could.

I was saved by voices. So great was my inner turmoil that it took a few moments before I realized that it was Francis and Maryann.

"-se Francis!"

"I'm sorry, Maryann…"

"I love you! Really and truly!"

I think my face must have turned ten shades of red. I felt a deep—slightly bitter—chuckle come from Keith, but he was careful to be quiet. I felt rather guilty that I was thinking at that moment, _These past few days could be the work of some dramatic romantic playwright! Can't we just have a few weeks without the word 'love' being mentioned in a non-familial sense?_

"Maryann…" Francis sounded shocked; and puzzled at the same time. "You've always been my friend. But…I think you're more like a sister to me th- Wait! Maryann!"

I could hear her quickly retreating footsteps, and my heart broke for Maryann. The look in her eyes when she had looked at Francis had been so similar to the one in Mother's when she spoke of Father.

"Tactless," Keith muttered beside me. I knew he was talking about Francis, and though I did not say anything, I wholeheartedly agreed.

I could see that Keith wanted to go down and tell Francis off. But, of course, he wouldn't risk it. (I briefly wondered how I could read Keith so well when I hadn't exactly spent a lot of time with him, but shoved the thought from my mind.)

"Would you like me to give him a piece of my mind for both of us?" I asked in a whisper.

Keith looked at me in surprise, and then a grin spread across his face. I smiled and swung down off the branch.


	10. A Certain Lack of Subtlety

Chapter Nine: A Certain Lack of Subtlety

"Francis," I said, approaching him with what I hoped was a deceptively disarming smile.

"Nadja," Francis returned, wide-eyed. Then he smiled—a little forced, I thought, and I could practically _feel_ Keith snorting and rolling his eyes behind me.

I decided to get right to the point.

"_What_ just possessed you to treat Maryann like that?"

A shadow passed over Francis's eyes. "Nadja...I can't imagine that you would forgive me for treating your friend that way, but-"

"This isn't an issue of forgiveness!" I didn't care that I was throwing all courtesy to the wind. "You _hurt_ her! I mean, even if you don't return a woman's love, there are kinder ways to let her know that than to outright deny her and shove her away!"

Francis blinked, looking rather like a deer caught in headlights. "Well...I...I'm sorry, I suppose. But that was the best way I knew-"

"Best way indeed." That was _distinctly_ not me, and this time I was the one snorting and rolling my eyes. Francis was staring at me, since the obviously male voice had come from my general direction. I considered pretending that Keith hadn't just completely blown his cover, but wasn't overly certain that Francis would believe me no matter what I said—I'd never claimed to be an actress. So I settled with turning around to glare at the tree.

"Thank you for sending here for no reason. What happened to not blowing your cover?"

"Seems kind of silly, don't you think?" Keith replied mildly, jumping out of the tree like it was just a tall table. I'd have to ask where he'd learned to jump like that. "Now that you know who I am and you're going to introduce me to your Troupe and your mother as well, once we get back, and maybe even your grandfather, it seemed rather silly to hide from my twin. Hello, Francis. Long time no see."

Feeling that as the twin of the young man in question, and having been parted for years, Francis had the first right to sending a come-back at Keith, I looked at him. But Francis, to all appearances, was too busy being shocked to reply at any point in the near future, so I took the opportunity to have my say.

"I thought I wasn't going to be introducing you to the Troupe. And what makes you think I'll be introducing you to my mother, let alone my _grandfather_?"

There was that _amusement_ in Keith's eyes. I would seriously _fear_ that look one day, I thought.

"It is, you see, polite to inform one's beloved's family when one begins to court her."

"It is also, you see, polite to _ask_ before one assumes that one will be courting a lady," I glared.

"I thought I'd made that reasonably clear already."

"Certainly, you've stated how you _feel_ often enough. But I recall nothing of being told of your intentions, much less _asked_ if I agree with those intentions."

"I'll ask if you want, but you ought to be aware that I'll be pursuing you no matter what you say."

"Lawless cad."

"Flighty runaway."

"I could turn that insult of yours straight back at you."

"Ah, but I was very steadfast in my attempts to escape that horrible school."

"Speaking of which, I hope you're aware that I was whipped for cutting class."

"What? You didn't claim you were sick, or lost or something like that?"

"But that would have been lying."

"So?"

"So lying is wrong!"

"A-"

"And don't try making some clever remark. This argument is giving me a headache."

"Aw. Poor little girl."

"You know, Sylvie taught me a very effective way of handling men that won't leave me alone..."

"Fat lot of good it did you, with the sheer volume of time in need of rescuing."

"Would you like to suffer?"

A beat. Then Keith caught my meaning.

"Darling, I suggest you think before attacking. Do you _really_ want to have to adopt when the time comes when you want to have children."

Another beat. Then I caught his meaning.

"I haven't agreed to marry you, let alone..._procreate_ with you." The thought was making my head spin, and I was feeling a little nauseous. Mother's rather painless-sounding vague explanation was one thing—Sylvie's vivid description of the very painful sounding way in which humans procreated was quite another, and I made that perfectly clear. "And I think I'll be adopting anyway when the time comes."

Keith snorted. "Well, at least I know that life on the street hasn't corrupted your innocence where those issues are concerned."

"_Innocence?_" I narrowed my eyes at him. "Are you suggesting that you've..."

Keith shot me a glare. "Honestly. What do you take me for? I've been pefectly faithful to you, so you can ignore whatever ideas you're getting."

"Well. At least you have _some_ morals." I was seriously starting to doubt my sanity: was I really having this conversation in _public?_ In front of _Francis?_ Saying things that made it sound like I actually _agreed_ to the proposal that hadn't been offered yet?

Wait—Francis!

"Erm," I awkwardly addressed my shell-shocked friend, "Sorry about that, Francis. Feel free to have your say."

Francis looked at me blankly. I almost thought he was too shocked to speak—and, to my horror, a strangely unmoved part of my brain noted that I'd never thought I'd see anyone actually in this state outside of novels—but he wasn't.

"So—that friend of yours. He was Keith."

Ah, yes. I'd done my fair share in the deception. I looked down awkwardly—what else was there to do?

"Yes—sorry. I approached you because you looked like Keith. I mean," I added hastily, correctly interpreting Keith's raised brow for what it was, "I _did_ think you might be Keith for a few moments. But there was something different about you—and much as I love Maryann, I was rather certain that Keith wouldn't be friends with her. And I'm sorry that I didn't tell you that my friend was Keith. I didn't see why I should...and I didn't know where Keith was at the time either."

"If you had known—where Keith was, I mean—would you have told me?" Francis's voice was sharp, and made me wince.

"No," I confessed meekly. "I suppose I would have thought it was none of my business to tell you what Keith hadn't told you himself."

"I see." Suddenly, I was the one put on the spot. I vaguely recalled that I'd come down here to lecture _him_ and tried to remember why Keith had thought it was a good idea to expose himself. I found I didn't really know. Our banter had been fun, but really, it was just that—fun banter. He wasn't serious about the marriage thing, after all—how _could_ he be? I was a Duchess-to-be, and he was a thief who had thrown away the title of a Duke. We lived in different worlds. I had my mother, and he had his beliefs. Neither of us could afford to switch worlds for the other.

And why was I thinking so seriously about this anyway? I wondered as Francis turned on Keith.

"And you. I don't suppose you'd care to explain your disappearance, so I'll ask you a simpler question: what makes you think that you can just pop up in front of me like nothing happened."

The spark in Keith's eyes that I adored so were extinguished in a second, but he concealed the fact with a mocking smirk. "Because I feel no sense of guilt for what I did, obviously. I have no regrets, and don't see why you should either."

Francis looked like he was dearly tempted to punch his twin in the face; I couldn't say I blamed him, what with Keith's attitude. Why _was_ he acting like that.

Then it struck me. _This_ was why he had come out—this explained his actions in totality. He _did_ feel guilty—not that he had run away, I was sure, but that he had left Francis behind to deal with that which he himself so despised—and he was just trying to prove to himself that there _was_ nothing to feel guilty about.

I looked at Francis, but Francis didn't seem to have caught on at all. I supposed that I shouldn't really be surprised, considering how long the brothers had been separated.

"I see," Francis replied coldly. "You would think so, wouldn't you? Morals aside, obviously family meant nothing to you."

"Mother meant everything to me," Keith replied, equally coldly. "But Father and his ways sicken me. They killed mother, and I wasn't about to let them smother me, too."

I looked desperately at Francis—if only he would understand—but Francis's face had gone still and emotionless. I knew exactly what he was thinking: _But I'm not talking about Father—what about me, your brother? Your twin? Did I mean nothing to you?_

But Francis did not voice his thoughts, and Keith either could not or would not read the accusation from Francis's face.

"I see," said Francis. "I see."

And, to the surrpise of both me and Keith, he turned and began to walk away.

I looked at Keith. There was a certain smugness on his face, as though he was under the impression that he had won some sort of battle of wills.

I couldn't help myself: I slapped him across the face, and hard.

"I cannot believe you," I hissed at him in German, and stomped off after Francis. Right now, he needed a friendly ear more than Keith did. Besides, I thought, Francis was far more deserving of the attention at the moment.

Thinking back, I wish I had looked back at Keith: out of concern or anger or something beyond both, it didn't matter. If only I had looked back, no doubt I would have seen the strucken expression that no doubt danced across his usually stoic face, or the betrayal—and I would have known to turn back.

But I didn't. And that was the fact that determined our futures for years to come.


	11. A Byproduct of Confusion

Chapter Ten: A Byproduct of Confusion

"Francis!" I called. "Francis, wait, please!"

He stopped. He did not sigh or droop or even turn around; he simply stopped, and I stumbled to a halt behind him, stammering meaningless syllables as I attempted to overcome the guilt that filled me at that seemingly insignificant gesture.

But then he sighed and turned around, and his shoulders lost a bit of their tension. It amazed me how such small gestures changed his demeanor from cold and accusing to helpless and forgiving in an instant.

"Francis, I'm so sorry," I said, almost in a whisper. "I really didn't mean to-"

"You talked to me because I looked like Keith, huh?" Francis's voice was no louder than mine.

"Well, sure, I started talking to you because... But I kept- I mean, I danced with you and kept talking with you and everything because...well, I like you for you, and-"

"May I kiss you?" Francis interrupted me. I stared at him. Really, I couldn't think what else to do.

Apparently, Francis took my lack of response as assent, because he caught me by the shoulders and pressed his lips to mine.

I think it must have taken me a few minutes to register that _Francis_ was _kissing_ me. Even after registering that, there wasn't much that I felt I could do—pushing him away could ruin our friendship, but _not_ pushing him away was bound to be equally destructive. What was I supposed to _do_?

But Francis pulled away then, saving me a bit of the dilemma.

I just stood there.

In retrospect, there are a lot of things I look back on and think, "I should have..." This was one of those moments. I should have pushed Francis away the moment I realized what he was doing. I should have made it clear to him right from the beginning how I felt about this whole situation.

But at the time, I was too confused.

"What-"

"Sorry," Francis said, his face flushed red. There was something endearingly sweet about the way that he looked so abashed. Nothing like the way Keith-

A wave of guilt came over me at the thought of Keith. _Why?_ Every time something happened, it always came back to-

No. No, I was with Francis right now. I had to figure out how to fix this mess with Francis. The evil twin had _nothing_ to do with it.

Maryann, on the other hand, did, I realized when I saw a blue skirt flutter around the building behind Francis. I felt the blood leave her face, and my ears began to ring.

Francis hadn't noticed.

"Francis," I said, trying to kep my voice from shaking.

"I'm sorry, Nadja," Francis's voice wasn't shaking, but he didn't sound like his usual self either. "I just...wanted to see if..."

"And?" I had to know. I _couldn't_ say anything before I knew.

"Well... I enjoyed it-"

I couldn't stand it. "But there was no passion."

Francis paused. Then he sighed. "No. I suppose that when you compare me and Keith-"

"I'm not _talking_ about Keith," I snapped. I was doing this a lot lately, I noticed. Maybe I was stressed. "I'm talking about you and me. The kind of passion I'm talking about isn't the kind that one person can produce. It takes two people who feel sincerely and passionately about each other!" I thought of my kiss with Keith—in my surprise, I had pressecd a little closer to Keith; with Francis, I had fractionally moved away. It wasn't about the _individual_...it was more that Keith and I just _fit_ together in a way that Francis and I didn't. But how was I to explain that?

"Francis..." He looked rather castfallen, and I didn't know what to say. "I just...I don't feel about you that way. Not that I don't...well, love you...but just in a different way!"

Francis sighed, and then smiled.

"Sorry," he said again. "I guess I'm just confused."

"Maybe." How to approach this with delicacy? "But you might want to talk to Maryann about that."

_My_ friendship with Maryann was probably just as at stake, but Maryann needed Francis more than she needed me.

"Maryann?" The blood left Francis's face. Then he seemed to regain control, and sighed. "I'm sorry, Nadja, but I really don't feel that way about her."

"But do you want to lose her as a _friend?_ A friend you've treasured all your life, and you lose her because you couldn't handle that she liked you a little more than you wanted?"

Francis just looked away. I rubbed my face with the palm of my hand.

"Francis...I'm sorry. For what Keith said, for confusing you, for everything. I have to go do some damage control on Keith's side now—but please, can we part on friendly terms?" I looked up at him, putting all the desperation I felt into my gaze.

"Of course," he said, and if his smile was a little shaky, I pretended not to notice. "And I'm sorry...again."

"It's all right," I smiled at him, and the world shifted a little—it seemed just a little closer back to the place where it belonged.


	12. Forgotten Memories

Chapter Eleven: Forgotten Memories

  "What do you want?" Keith demanded of me, and I halted in my tracks. He hadn't spoken to me like this since...well, since we first met, I supposed, but even then his tone didn't seem quite this menacing. 

"I- well-" Why was I stuttering? Why was I so nervous? I ought to just snap at him what I thought of him for acting the way he had! "I can't believe you treated Francis that way!" 

 "Well, I can't believe that you'd lead me on that way!" 

 I blinked, and my mind drew a blank, but I didn't feel like letting him know that I had no idea what he was talking about.

"Maybe if you'd pay more attention to the people around you, I wouldn't have to clean up your messes for you!"  

"Clean up _my_ mess?" His eyes flashed. I paid them no heed. After everything that had happened in the last ten minutes, I didn't think I could handle any more.  

"Yes, your mess!" 

 "Is that what you were doing?"  

"Of course! What did you expect him to think, after everything you threw at him?"  

"I threw nothing at him—the only thing I recall emphasizing was that _I_ had a claim over you that _he_ did not!"  

"What are you _talking_ about?" I demanded. My head was wirling, and my face was flushing. It wasn't as though he had seen Francis kiss me...  

But then his eyes flashed, and he grabbed me roughly by the wrist.  

Having experienced this surprise factor too often in the past few days for my own good, I was quick to slap him away. "What do you think you're _doing_? What makes you think I'd _ever_ let myself be kissed just because you caught me by surprise?"  

"You didn't seem to think so before," he said quietly, his eyes dangerous as he dropped my wrist. I thought of my first kiss with Keith and blushed. I couldn't reply to that, so I just looked away.

Keith closed his eyes and gave a smile that shot an ominous feeling through the center of my chest. "I see," he told me quietly, and then turned away. "Then know that you'll never see me again."  

I didn't understand. "Wait, what? Where did this- How did you- What?"  

"If you think I'll just stand here and watch as my brother takes my one last treasure out of my life-"  

"_What?_ I don't-"  

"-then you're sorrowfully mistaken."  

"-understand this at all-"  

"Goodbye."  

I suppose that it is only natural that the man who was the Black Rose should be able to vanish into the darkness in under a second.

It surprised me anyway.  I stared after him for a few moments, baffled.  Then I reviewed our conversation—or tried, at least. I couldn't remember much of anything. Just that I had been frustrated, and he had been angry, and...and everything was just a confusing haze.  I looked around where I was, in the middle of the woods behind the orphanage. It was a nice place, I decided. And there were certainly more trees that I could climb...  

I proceeded to do just that. I didn't admit to myself that it was almost soley to take my mind off of my current predicament. But that wasn't as easy as it seemed, and I was soon sitting atop the second tree that I climbed, slumped on a branch with my back against a tree trunk.  

Certainly, for all intents and purposes, I had known Keith for years. We might have only met once, but there had been a little interaction in the years between then and now, and he had even watched over me, according to him. He knew everything about me. More than my mother even knew, probably.  But I knew nothing of him. He appeared before me regularly as the Black Rose, and I never noticed it was him. He helped a girl that I had tried to help, and that course of action surprised me, coming from him. He told me he loved me. I hadn't seen that coming at all.  What did I know of him? Of him and Francis, even?  It had surprised me at the ball to realize that he had a brother—a twin, at that. I remembered nothing of that. Had we spent so much time debating issues of life that we had never talked about personal issues?  No, that couldn't be right. I knew we'd talked of our parents. Our grandparents, even.  How could I know anything of a man who came into my life without a thought for himself? Who let me do all the talking, all the complaining, and never spoke for himself unless I initiated it? He spoke of his opinions, his passion against nobility and for the common; but did he ever speak of the things close to his heart?  

I closed my eyes. The breeze felt cool against my face.  

_"Francis? Who's that?"_  

_The little boy turned cold at once. "No one of consequence."_  

_"Why?"_  

_"It doesn't matter."_  

_"But you just-"_  

_"Enough!" Keith glared at her, but his eyes closed when he saw that she looked rather upset by his frank denial to let her in. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I grew up with him. He's all noble all the time, helping other people, being nice, fulfilling his duties like Father wants me to."_  

_"Is he a cousin?" Nadja asked boldly. "He doesn't sound much like you." _

_She had feared that he would close up when he tensed at her first question, but then when she hastily followed it up with the second comment, he relaxed and smiled a little._  _"We aren't much alike. When I make a mistake that he knows about, he covers for me. He thinks he's helping me, I know, but he just... It's so infuriating! I deserve the punishment; why should he take it? For me to step forward and say it was me would just be an insult to him, so I don't, but he doesn't see that what he does is an insult to me! He takes what's rightfully mine!"_  

_Nadja could not reply to that, and Keith's anger was beginning to scare her. She should change the topic, she decided._  

Something shifted.  

_"That made no sense."_  

_"What do you mean?"_  

_"What do _you_ mean? 'Stealing objects isn't as bad as stealing other things'? Well, what else could you steal?"_  

_Keith looked rather annoyed. "Objects are just_ objects. _They're not that important, really, and the people who're obsessed with them either need them to live, or are just plain greedy. The worst thing to lose is something close to your heart."_  

_"Like...like love?"_  

_Keith shrugged. "I meant more like pride. To have an object taken from you is reversable; to have pride taken from you is upsetting because what you lost you might never regain, even with excessive time and effort put into it. But yeah, love too, I suppose."_  

_"So you wouldn't mind if someone stole your mother's stuff, you wouldn't really mind?"_  

_"Of course I'd mind! Not because they stole objects, but because the objects are connected to Mother! It all..."_  

The memory that was a dream faded away, and even from my sleep, I remember the thought, "Ah, so this is the concept of the Black Rose. Built on the concept of stealing more than an object: steal their pride, so that they might not recover..."  Then there was another shift. This time, my mind didn't settle on another steady stream of dream-like forgotten memories. This time, it was a whirl of things that my brain was piecing together, as though to warn me into waking. 

 _He grabbed me roughly by the wrist. I was quick to slap him away. "What do you think you're _doing_? What makes you think I'd _ever_ let myself be kissed just because you caught me by surprise?"_  

_"You didn't seem to think so before," he said quietly._  

And another.  

_"...my brother takes my one last treasure..."_  

And finally,  

_"Then know that you'll never see me again."_  

I jolted awake. I hadn't even realized that I had been asleep, but the dreams were still vivid in my mind.  

Kissing. Why had it never crossed my mind that, like Maryann, Keith could have seen what had happened? Keith was well versed in the art of watching without being seen.  

Treasure. Keith didn't believe in treasure. The only things he would treasure were the things close to his heart, and there certainly weren't many of those. And he had just made it clear that I was one of them.  Now I would never again-  My chest tightened unbearably.

_Keith_.  The worst part was that he had not run off at once. He had given me a chance, and I had not understood.  Now he was lost to me.


	13. Recesses of Her Heart

Chapter Twelve: Recesses of Her Heart

"Nadja," Rita asked me for the who-knew-what-th time, "What's wrong?"

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I grew up with no one but Mother who could really read me, but I'm a terrible liar. I knew that no matter how many times I replied, "Really, it's nothing," no one was going to believe me any more than they had the first time.

But I didn't know what else to do. Rita was barely eight—I couldn't exactly tell her the truth!

"Kennosuke," Silvy suddenly interrupted. "I think that we ought to move up our departure date. Why don't you and Rita go buy us enough food to last us through a few days' travel until we reach the next city?"

Kennosuke and Rita blinked, but Silvy was already turning to the Leader. "You agree with my sentiments, of course?"

"Oh, yes, of- of course." the Leader looked rather surprised that Silvy would take over his authority and set things in motion before he could, but not that she had made the suggestion. But he was quick to reassume his position. "Go buy the bread and jam, Kennosuke and Rita. Thomas, you buy the vegetables. Arvell, help me check the car one last time before we leave. Silvy, Granny, Nadja, clean up after us so that we can leave by afternoon."

Everyone set to their tasks without question.

Silvy and Granny set about taking down the stage, so I set about clearing the table behind the car. I moved quickly and efficiently, taking the cleaned breakfast dishes inside. They had not been washed long ago, so they were still wet; inside the car, I wiped each with a dry cloth and put it away.

Once that was finished, I set about dissembling the table. Granny and Silvy came around the car when I was nearly finished.

The two of them proceeded to take down the tent that had sheltered the table. I was grateful that they proceeded do it all in complete silence.

That afternoon, we set out as planned. The small amount of money that we had earned over their day-or-two-long stop in the city had not provided us with the amount of provisions that we would have normally required before setting out on a new journey, but something about the way that I refused to leave the car at all gave everyone the impression that something was greatly wrong.

Of course, I felt bad letting them assume that it had something to do with my family problems. It was a mere misunderstanding between friends—or suitors? Lovers?—yet I could not bring myself to speak up.

That night, we set up camp alongside the road. Rita had been talked out of asking questions, though she and Kennosuke continued to throw me speculative glances. Nor did I miss the fact that they discussed what could have happened to make me so quiet and grave in hushed voices, atop the car.

I couldn't sleep that night. I tossed and turned for awhile in an attempt to find that blissful oblivion; unfortunately, it continued to elude me.

So I slipped outside after a while, and sat upon the stairs at the back of the car as I often had before.

Had this been any night prior to yesterday, I reflected, I would have been already sitting here, awaiting the coming of my...suitor, if he could be called that. Strange, that only now did it really seem right to call him my 'suitor.' Before now, no matter how I had tried to wrap my mind around it, he had just been a friend. A friend who had declared love for me, but a friend nonetheless.

But after our quarrel...

"Mind if I join you?"

I jumped and looked up to see Silvy smiling down at me. "Of course not," I replied quickly, shifting to make room for Silvy on the steps beside me. Silvy murmured her thanks and sat down. Silvy would have made an excellent noblewoman, I reflected. She had a sort of natural grace that was apparent in every gesture—nothing like me, who seemed to abandon all semblence of grace the moment I stopped dancing.

There was a brief silence between us two women.

"So, not expecting your visitor today?"

"What?" I looked up at Silvy in surprise. "How did you-"

Silvy smiled. "This isn't the first time I've woken in the middle of the night to hear someone slipping out of bed, you know. I'm not as deep a sleeper as the rest of them."

"Oh." A moment of silence. "I suppose you saw...?"

"That you met with the Black Rose almost nightly?" she asked wryly. "I could scarcely have missed it. Though I was unfortunately asleep on the night that you were attacked. I assume it was the Black Rose who came to your rescue then?"

I looked away. That night had been pivot point number one. I thought it had changed everything. I remembered being so upset by everything that had happened, all at once, hounding me to reach some sort of decision, or make some sort of change in my ways of life. Then had come yesterday—pivot point number two—and in light of all the problems I had caused, that first night didn't seem to be of any consequence of all any longer, save that my life could possibly be in danger.

I don't know how Silvy took my silence, but she remained quiet as well for a time. I think she may have been watching me—studying me for my reactions to her mention of the Black Rose.

The next time she spoke up, it was again with a question. "Am I correct in assuming that your withdrawal has more to do with the Black Rose than with your uncle?" I stared at her. She smiled. "Nadja, dear, it's not that hard to figure out. You don't have the look of a person who's been through a life-or-death situation, or even been threatened with one—you look more like a girl in love and with no idea what to do about it."

"I'm _not_ in love with him!" I insisted at once. "I mean, he's a _thief_-" Some part of my mind cut me off. I could no longer call him a thief in good conscience, it seemed. He was more Keith than he was a thief, after all.

"Would you care to tell me about it?" asked Silvy. I hesitated, and she smiled knowingly. "You need not mention any names. Just tell me what happened—it'll feel good to get these things off your chest."

"It's complicated."

"We have all night."

A mere moment of hesitation, and then I was lost. I needed to talk, I insisted to my indignant conscience.

"When I was young—ten years of age, maybe—my father put me in boarding school," I began. Silvy raised an eyebrow at the odd way I began my story, but did not comment. "There was a boy with no friends, whom everyone always spoke ill of, who walked by my window everyday. My friends repeated rumors they'd heard of him and shunned him; I was intrigued by him.

"So I spoke to him one day. His name..." I wavered. I couldn't give his name—it would be a betrayal of the Black Rose.

"Keith?" Silvy asked quietly. I looked at her, hesitated, then nodded. "You whispered it in your sleep a few nights ago," she smiled in response to the question I was asking with my eyes. I felt my face flush.

"An- anyway, that was how I met Keith. We didn't get along very well at first. He assumed me to be an arrogant noble, and I took that badly. But then I told him how my parents married-" Silvy's raised eyebrows were asking me another question. "Oh! Er, my father was my mother's piano teacher, and they eloped when my grandfather wouldn't let them marry because of their difference in status. They went to Paris and lived a poor but happy life, till my father died and my grandfather found my mother and me and brought us back. I was just a baby—I don't remember anything."

Silvy was smiling. "That's quite the romance."

"Isn't it?" I gushed, and I couldn't help the smile that broke out on my face. I had not often had the opportunity to tell people of my parents. "I just wish I could have a love like theirs—so exciting, yet so pure and simple. Though...I wish Father hadn't had to die. I feel like I know him, from everything Mother's told me, but I don't feel that I really _remember_ him."

"You said you want a romance of your own—what of this deal with Keith?"

"Oh." Somehow, again, my mind had failed to make the connection. Mother and Father's story was just so..._romantic_. Mine and Keith's, at least so far, was just plain messed up. So I said so.

"Go on with the story, then," Silvy suggested.

So I did. I sort of skipped over that first encounter by saying that we'd talked about "anything and everything." I told her about the dress and his suggestions that I venture out into the city, and she had outright laughed when I explained to her that all I needed to sneak past the servants was a low hat and an air of confidence that I was supposed to be where I was.

Then I told her about meeting the Black Rose. I figured that this was not really a betrayal of confidence, since she had already figured out that the Black Rose was named Keith.

I explained how the Black Rose and I had met in the alleyway the night my uncle had attacked me, and how he had appointed himself my personal protector from that very moment. I explained that the night of the 'attack' I had been shot at, and it had been entirely the Black Rose's doing that I had come out of it safe and sound. I told her how distraught I had been, and that I had questioned the Black Rose's motives in protecting me.

Then I came screeching to a halt. I could feel my face heating up. Somehow, verbally describing events brought them back more vividly than ever—particularly ones that had been suppressed. I could see him, reaching toward me, pulling my mouth to his...

"And then?"

"He...he kissed me." I felt my face flushing.

"And what did you do?" I should have felt offended that Silvy was so enthused by my private life, but I didn't have that much presence of mind.

"I slapped him."

"Nadja!"

"I was surprised! And I thought I didn't know him, or at least hadn't for that long. But then he told me that he was Keith, and that he'd been checking in on me every so often since the first time he'd seen me as the Black Rose, and then I was just so confused... But we saw each other after that, once, with him just as Keith. And..."

I trailed off, wondering how to proceed.

So far, all was well because 'Keith' was a relatively common name. Silvy had no family name to go by—only that he was named Keith and had attended boarding school, so must be from a relatively well off family. I had left out Francis, because with or without a name, revealing that Keith had an identical twin would narrow the possibilities significantly, and possibly even be a dead giveaway.

"And?" But the fact that they were brothers, and twins furthermore, was completely beside the point. Couldn't I just leave that little detail out?

"You see...there's this noble I'm friends with..."

"Francis Harcourt? The one you gave the letter to when we were leaving Vienna?"

I stared. "You knew?"

Silvy chuckled. "I'm not blind, you know. Anyway, go on."

"So...I saw Francis, and he was having an argument with a lady who's also a friend of mine. The two of them have known each other for years, since they were children, and she's in love with him. At the point at which I came across them, he was rejecting her with no tact whatsoever, and I found that rather vexing. So after she went running off, I decided to give him a piece of my mind. Unfortunately, Keith came into the equation, Francis recognized him, and it all went very badly with all three of us all at odds with each other. So I decided to go after Francis-"

"Why?" Silvy's voice was almost accusing, as though she could see where this was going.

"Well..." Why _had_ I? "Because I felt that it was Keith's fault for coming out, and that his comforting could wait, I suppose."

"Did you ever consider that he might have considered Francis a threat?"

"A threat? A threat to what?"

"To you. It sounds like up until the appearance of Francis, Keith had no competition to speak of."

"I suppose, but-"

"So wouldn't it make sense that he joined the conversation to make it clear to Francis that you were spoken for?"

I thought back. Come to think of it, all he had really done at first was provoke me into shooting verbal jibes at him. I had even come close to forgetting about Francis for a time. "He _did_ command my attention to him...and I didn't turn to Francis for a while..."

Silvy smiled. "Nadja, men can be quite petty sometimes. If nothing else, I can assure you that this Keith of yours is quite possessive of you. I'm willing to wager that he was aware that Francis would recognize him, and took the risk anyway because of a single-minded need to assert that you were not available. You might not have noticed, but still, to his mind, your choice to follow Francis after the argument would have seemed a betrayal, I'm sure."

I felt the blood leave my face. "That's not even all."

"Oh?"

"Francis kissed me. I couldn't push him away—not because I like him that way or anything, I just didn't want to ruin our friendship, only I think Keith saw, and thought... He found me afterwards, and tried to kiss me, but I was tired and all the things he said were hinting at me and Francis, only I thought of them as applying to me and Keith, and didn't realize till later...and Keith left, and said I wouldn't be seeing him again."

Silvy stared at me and sighed. "You were right when you said that your story was more messed up than romantic."

That sentiment didn't comfort me at all.

Nor did the nagging doubts in the recesses of my mind—heart, really, but I didn't want to admit that—that I might—maybe—possibly be in love with Keith.


	14. In the Dead of Night

Chapter Thirteen: In the Dead of Night

Autumn came early that year. By the time we reached Vienna, the autumn chill had turned to frost that covered the grounds at dawn and was slush by midmorning. It had taken us a week and a half to get back, and while it concerned me that I had not seen my mother in nearly a month, it was not so pressing a concern that I could not banish it to the back of my mind.

Following the incident of my attacker, the revelation of my identity, and my falling out with Keith, I had settled in so naturally with the Troupe that I could scarcely remember life before them any longer. It was strange—I had not noticed that the deception of my station had left me tense and nervous until it was gone, and I could relax and just be _me_ in a way that I could never do with anyone but Mother...and, perhaps, Keith.

I ran around bare-footed with Rita, teased Kennosuke, endured Sylvie's painful "training sessions"—she had been the dancer, once, before injuring her leg beyond repair—listened to Arvell's stories, described the music of my grandfather's ballroom to Thomas, was baffled by Granny's wisdom and impressed by Leader's reliability. I was now one of them, stepping into a web of family that I had seen, but never before been fully a part of.

Yet on some nights, I still lay awake thinking of Keith and regretting my idiocy.

I could have been less obivious to his feelings, I berated myself. I could have noticed his discomfort sooner. I could have explained what transpired between me and his brother in the first place, without intending to deceive him in the hope that I could just leave that bizarre occurrance in the past. I could have pushed Francis away—I had no obigation to him to be sensitive about his feelings and insecurities; I had known all along that he wasn't for me. In fact, I could have just avoided the whole problem altogether if I had stayed with Keith in the first place instead of pursuing Francis.

But I had come to a certain conclusion: my closeness with Keith was such that it did not ordinarily allow for the final "could have" option. Somehow, I regarded Keith as being so close to me that if he offended someone, I felt the need to apologize as if I had done the offense.

The first time I came to this realization, it was blood-chilling. What did this closeness entail, exactly? Did it not seem to imply that he and I were practically one? Was that kind of closeness even natural? Then I wondered if this was love. I rejected that idea almost immediately. Love had to do with the heart, not the baffling doings of the subconscious.

Eventually, I could only conclude that somehow, Keith was so much a part of my life that I might as well shoot myself in the head rather than try to remove him from it. Ever since that one day we spent together at school, he had been an essential part of my life without ever having to be there. I had never thought it strange or unnatural, the way I looked so often back on a boy whom I had met only once, but I suspected that that was because I thought of him so often that I scarcely ever realized that I was doing it.

Then his renewed presence in my life had changed things. He had revealed that he had always been close by, and for over a week, he had never failed to be by my side when I needed company or protecting—and even when I didn't. His love was irrelevent. Somehow, his active presence in my life had made his existance seep into my very bones, and to be without him was like...like being without a limb that one had taken for granted for all one's life, and never realized how important it was until robbed of it.

This was not to say that I loved him, or even really needed him. It just meant that I was far too used to having his presence by my side. The week without him had taught me that. Love was a different issue—one to be dealt with in time. For now, I had to wean myself off the necessity of Keith.

We had heard of a heist of the Black Rose in France a few days ago, and that had been the final blow—Keith was really no longer by my side.

But even as I taught myself to be without the foundation on which my current life was built, I still had to figure out how to get home. When the Troupe had first asked me and I had blankly stated that I intended to walk in the front gate, they had instantly rebelled. By no means, they told me in no uncertain terms, was I going to walk directly into danger with my arms wide open to it.

Oddly enough, this sentiment of theirs relieved me.

But it still left me with the dilemma of how to get home.

Kennosuke's suggestion that we all walk up to the front gate was quickly rejected on the grounds that they would probably turn us all away, thinking us stupid gold-diggers. Thomas suggested that I walk in through the servant's entrance as I had always done, but Sylvie quickly spoke out against that, stating that whoever was after me obviously knew where I was, and possibly that I had often joined them in Wien, and if so, then probably how I had gotten in and out of the manor as well. The Troupe had quickly come round to her way of thinking, and the dilemma still remained unsolved.

We spent that night in town with the intention to perform the next day, still no closer to a solution.

The incident occurred that night.

It was the darkest, deadest hour of night when I dragged my eyelids open to the sounds of crashing and other similar clamour. I was tired from the activities of the day, and didn't fully waken until the car began to shake.

It was no small feat to make the Troupe's car shake—it was made of wood and metal, and with all the furniture, people and suppies it contained, it should have been no easier to move than a house.

When I threw off my covers and scrambled out of bed, I was hardly surprised to find that everyone else was doing the same. Heedless of my tattered nightclothes that were Silvy's hand-me-downs, I rushed outside.

It was silly of me. I should have let Leader be the first one to go. He would have known what to do.

But when I found myelf face-to-face with two men in black who held revolvers in their hands, I simply froze.

They stared at me for a few moments, probably with as much incredulelty as I felt. Then one shouted, "Found her!" and reached out to grab me by the arm. I think something must have broken in me then, because the small part in me that had denied that there was really anyone after me personally broke then.

A second later, the man was sprawled on the ground ten feet away, and the Leader was standing in front of me, barring me from the men.

"If you want to take our dancer away," he growled, "You'll have to go through all of us."

The entire Troupe was standing around me now, glaring at them and shielding me. It shamed me to see that they stood strong against these people when I would have merely screamed, struggled, and overall been nothing more than a damsel in distress waiting to be saved.

I berated myself for my cowardliness, and moved to take my place with the Troupe—I would fight my battle with them. How would I live with myself afterwards if I let them protect me and harm came to them?

But more men were coming around the car, and I counted seven total. They all had revolvers.

"Silvy," I heard Leader hiss, "Get the children inside."

Rita cried out in protest as Silvy dragged her back inside, and Kennosuke and I argued that we weren't children. Our argument was short-lived, for it ended the moment that Arvell took pity on Silvy and came to her aid. It could not have taken more than ten seconds before the pair of them had me, Kennosuke, Rita, Creme and Chocolat inside with the door slammed behind us.

Kennosuke rattled at the door, but it didn't budge. Either someone was leaning on it from the outside, or they'd found something to baricade it with. It was probably the former, because I doubted that they'd have had that much time.

"This way," I hissed against my better judgment. I wasn't about to let people dear to me fight on my behalf while I cowered in the safety of the car. Besides, how safe _was_ the car anyway? They'd been shaking it, somehow.

I shoved the window open, watching the struggling figures outside as I did. Silvy was playing the part of the helpless damsel in distress; the moment that they came close enough, enticed by her "womanly wiles," her parasol would be folded and come bashing down on their heads—she had taught me this tactic once, but I had never seen it actually used. Granny was bashing a man on the head with a frying pan.

The others didn't have it so easy. The men had guns, and weren't afraid to use them. Leader was bleeding from his side, and I had to suppress a scream. Arvell was managing to move quickly enough to make himself a difficult target to hit, but this also made him a simple moving target, for he couldn't get close enough to attack. Thomas was only faring somewhat better, hiding behind anything that could serve as a shield and leaping out at random invervals to attack. He had not yet been shot, but it was only luck.

By the time I had scrambled out and was helping Rita down, Thomas had been shot and vanished into the shadow of a building from which he did not reemerge. The man turned to me, and I saw him aim; some rational part of my mind screamed, told me I had to flee.

I could not heed it. I had a moment to reflect on my foolishness before I saw his finger move on the trigger...

And then Chocolat was there, leaping onto the man and chewing at his neck, and Creme was right behind him, biting the man's wrist. He dropped the gun and I breathed a sigh of relief. "Find a place to hide, Rita," I whispered to her as Kennosuke leapt forward to knock out the man with his practice sword.

I watched Rita scurry off out of the corner of my eye. I knew I should join her, for I had no weapon and no strategy, but I couldn't bring myself to do so.

I never noticed the man shoot at the Leader. I never saw Leader crumple to the ground, or the barrel of the gun turn to me.

I heard the shot, but then I knew nothing more.


	15. An End to It All

Chapter Fouteen: An End to It All

I can't say that I was surprised to wake and find myself in a dark, bleak room with my uncle. I suppose I'd hoped that it wasn't him, but I'd never really believed that. That just goes to show that I'm not as trusting as I would have liked, I guess.

But Uncle Herman was asleep in an easychair, and I thought I might be able to sneak away. The door was locked, and there was only one door. There weren't even any windows. The door had a keyhole, so I looked around for the key. I couldn't see one, and thus came to the conclusion that Uncle Herman had it on his person and I was not likely to be able to take it from him without waking him.

I lay back down on the couch where I had woken, and looked up at the ceiling.

If I had intended to ponder my situation or think up some clever ruse to escape, then I was unsuccessful. My mind remained unnaturally blank for the full duration of the time it took for my uncle to wake and realize that I was not as unconscious as I had been before his nap.

"Nadja," he said, and I wasn't sure whether to describe the tone as murder or sugar.

I gulped. He smiled.

"I just asked you a simple favor. Why would you run away from me like that?" His voice was slurred. He was drunk again. Was he always drunk these days? But it was unlikely that I would be able to get away at all—better to play along with whatever he wanted.

"My apologies, Uncle," I addressed him as I would have in public, with as much respect as I could produce for this vile man. "I did not think you were in your right mind, and I was afraid."

"Of what?" he purred. "Now, you don't honestly think that I would hurt my own niece?"

I knew that he beat his own wife and verbally abused his own stepson. I remained silent, my eyes cast down.

"Ah." His voice was definitely deadly now, and the slur was gone from his speech. Had he been faking? "So you do."

I heard the creaking as he leaned back in his chair. There was silence.

"My apologies, Uncle," I offered again, feebly.

"No, no," he replied, waving his hand at me. "You were quite right, you know. I'm sure you are aware of those men who've been following you around, shooting at you at times, who brought you to me tonight? Yes? Every one of them is my hireling, you see. I just assumed that you would be more like my sister: trusting to a fault. I suppose it's the blood of that i_commoner/i_..."

Normally, I would not have stood for such an insult tossed at my father. But given the circumstances, I convinced myself to hold my tongue. Not that it was easy, mind you—nothing irks me more than when people insult my family, much less members of my family who are no longer with us, and in no position to defend themselves.

There was another lengthy silence in which I wondered if my Uncle was trying to bore information out of me; then he spoke again.

"Do you have any idea why I have done what I did?"

"You want to be Grandfather's heir?" I hazarded. I was, in fact, quite certain that this was the case. Therefore, it quite surprised me when he laughed, shaking his head as if I were some silly child who had leapt to the most absurd conclusion ever.

"Not at all, my dear, not at all—of course, that is a bonus I would rather enjoy. But no. Nadja, I am doing what I am doing because I find you highly unworthy to exist in a world of nobles, let alone to be i_heir_/i to one of the most powerful men in Europe."

To my shame, I could no longer hold my tongue, and when I spoke, my tone scarcely concealed the venom I felt for my uncle. "If this is about my father again, I will have you know that-"

"No, no, you misunderstand," said my uncle quite smoothly, waving a hand at me. "Your origins are problems which are to be taken up with your parents, and while I do not approve, it certainly is none of your doing. Let me explain what I object to. It is your improper behaviour, that you act as if it were a great terror to be a noble and an honor to be a commoner; that you would sneak out of your home dressed like a servant, to spend time among the common folk with no concern for the harm that might befall you; and most of all, that you would i_dare_/i consort with the Black Rose, who is enemy to us all!"

I felt myself pale. It was not just that he knew my secrets, even about Keith (though I was thankful that he wasn't aware that I knew who, exactly, the Black Rose was underneath the mask). It was that he knew the things that I had tried so carefully to hide because they were i_exactly_/i the sort of things that Grandfather would condemn me for as well.

I realized that Uncle Hermann was, indeed, simply after the position as heir. The argument he was making, however, was the one that would make Grandfather take him seriously. Grandfather never believed anything without seeing proof with his own eyes, so he was never apt to take someone's word for anything. But Uncle Hermann's argument was one which would make Grandfather investigate the claims—which were all true. I had no hope of being let off easily.

"What-" My voice broke, and I swallowed and wet my lips. "What do you want from me?"

My uncle merely smirked at me, and then turned away and proceeded to go on.

"How could you, Nadja? The Black Rose! He steals from noblility for no apparent reason; he ruins our reputations, and tears us to pieces. And you dare consort with him on a regular basis? What deal did he make you, Nadja? Information in exchange for some percentage of the spoils? "

I felt nauseous. I had made a deal with the Black Rose much like that one in the beginning, I realized. My companionship in exchange for his word that he would never do anything to the House of Preminger or the House of Corlade.

"Or perhaps not. Perhaps you had a different reason—are you attempting to champion your father's people, Nadja. Oh dear. I never thought that your father's blood might lead to something like _this_..."

_My father's people._ As if they were foreigners—an entirely different people. No—worse than foreigners, because my father had been French, but that did not offend Uncle in the least.

The nausea grew worse.

"Perhaps that wasn't even all you did. Tell me, Nadja—did you warm his bed at night? Did he try to seduce you? After all, a champion of the people must get quite lonely at night... I suppose you quite enjoyed it, helping out your hero. Did he kiss so well that you couldn't resist?"

I regurgitated the contents of my stomach then and there. The image that my uncle was conjuring in my mind was a horribly ugly one, and yet every aspect of the me whom he portrayed had some degree of accuracy. The deal, my loyalty to the commoners, my not-quite-innocent relationship with Keith...

If it had gone on without interferance, would I have let him bed me? i_Would_/i he have tried to bed me? Would I have wanted him to? Would I have shared his bed quietly for a month or a year, until he tired of me and tossed me aside, like the common whore that I had become?

It took me a while to regain my bearings that time. Scenarios flooded my mind, and I wondered at how real they were, or could have been. It took a time before I managed to remind myself that it really was all in my mind, and that I had not really done anything remotely despicable.

I drew myself up, tall and proud as the heiress that I was—or at least, was supposed to have been.

"You twist what I do into things they are not—innocent doings into the horrible dealings of a woman more worldly than I. I have done nothing to be ashamed of, and Grandfather will know this. Perhaps he will be cross with me for venturing out into the common world as I have done, but I did this to learn of the world. After all, what person can preside above others as a noble without really knowing what the common man things, and how he lives? Grandfather will surely see this—and I am guilty of little else which you condemn me for. My connection with the Black Rose was unintended by either of us and perfectly chaste, and I have betrayed nothing.

"Grandfather will know this."

Uncle Hermann stared at me, as if surprised that I should find that much courage so quickly—and, I think, he was expecting me to be guilty of more than that. His eyes bored into mine, and I managed to quench my terror and stare him back boldly in the eye. I had nothing to be ashamed of, I repeated to myself.

"I see." His voice was low and trembled like the rumbling before a thunderstorm. His eyes were narrow, and seemed to focus on something befhind me—I wondered if he was going blind. "Then why don't we make things easier for both of us?"

Several things happened at once: he pointed the gun at me and fired, I was knocked aside by some invisible force that shocked me, and I thought I heard a familiar voice calling my name. When I looked up from my position on the floor, there was Keith—and there was blood.

I registered that Uncle Hermann had fired a shot aimed to kill me; that Keith, disguised as the Black Rose, had thrown me aside; that the bullet had struck Keith; and that Keith had knocked the gun from my uncle's hand with one of his cards.

Something slid out of place in my mind, and suddenly everything was right, and I caught a glimpse of what I had failed to understand all along—and I also understood that Keith could be dying.

With a cry, I threw myself towards the man I had always loved, ignoring the way he was snapping at me to stay back. I gripped his shoulders to hold him still and swept my hands over his body, trying to find the source of the blood. It was his right side, by the ribs. I almost cried because it was not fatal; I felt the fury begin to simmer because it could have been fatal, and I did not know what damage the bullet had inflicted upon him.

I turned on my uncle before I knew what I was doing. "How dare you."

My uncle's eyes narrowed. "How dare _I_? This man is the enemy of every noble alive!"

"Only the ones who did some wrong," I said. There was a sort of calmness that was consuming me, and I stood and walked toward Uncle Hermann. Apparently, this wasn't what he had been expecting, because he looked at me bewilderedly, pointed the gun again, and glared.

"Don't come any closer!"

So I stopped. My hands brushed over my skirts in search of something—anything—that might be of use. I could not possibly do anything barehanded.

"So," sneered the horrible man with the gun, "you prove yourself dishonest now. Chaste indeed. Or is he going to bed you after he gets you out of here?"

Something fell to the floor out of my skirts. I looked down.

"Listen to me, woman! You think I don't know what's going on? Why, it's all that women do! You smile and swish your skirts and move gracefully—you're always out to seduce someone! My sister chose to pursue her piano teacher, and now you choose to pursue a thief...well, I can't say I'm particularly surprised! Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. Only the commoner in you would make you worse—you would beg like a tramp and revel in the vulgar, just like all of them do."

I let my arms go limp and fell to my hands and knees, hoping that he would interpret this as a woman in the face of death. I felt beneath my right hand the little pebble that had fallen from my skirt. It was a little small, but it was the best I had.

"A commoner and a woman, to take over the House of Preminger! No—I'll never let it happen! Father will see what I mean—I'll make sure he does. He can't possibly..."

I took a swing and rolled to the side, just in case Uncle decided to fire at me.

I didn't hear the pebble hit its mark, but I did see my uncle's eyes go blank, the gun fall from his hand, and his body crumple to the ground.

I only looked at him a few moments to be sure he would not get up again before I hurried over to Keith.

"Nadja," he said, but I ignored him and pulled open his cape and then his shirt to expose his wound. It looked worse than I had imagined, and I ripped off a long piece of cloth from the bottom of my petticoat, which I wrapped around his torso in the hope of at least slowing the bleeding and preventing the wound from rubbing against everything whenever he moved.

"We have to leave," I murmured. "Can you stand?"

"Nadja," he said again, "listen to me-"

"I'll listen to you later, right now we have to go-"

"I love you, and I always just assumed that you and I would...because, well...even that trick with the pebble was-"

I could feel tears in my eyes. He was talking like a man about to die. But the wound wasn't fatal! ...Right?

I tried to pull him to his feet as I spoke. "Stop, Keith, we have to leave—I'll listen later-"

"Nadja," I heard my uncle growl. My blood went cold.

I half-dragged him to the door, glancing back at my uncle fearfully—he was still disoriented and was trying to collect his bearings and find his gun. "Keith, hurry, we have to-"

"I can't run that fast at the moment," he said to me. "He'll come after us. Just go, darling, I promise I won't be long."

"But you-"

He kissed me, and it was a kiss meant to distract. He succeeded. I dropped my guard the moment his tongue touched my lower lip, and the next thing I knew he'd opened the door, shoved me out and closed it again. I stared a minute, then threw myself at it and rattled against the doorknob in vain. I could hear struggling from within, and angry voices from both of them.

"Someone!" I screamed—futile, but the only thing I could think to do any longer. I did not know how to pick locks that well, and even if I did, I had nothing to pick it _with_. And I was probably somewhere far beyond sanity that that point anyway. "Someone, come and _help!_"

I wasn't actually expecting anyone to hear me, so it came as something of a shock when a familiar young man rounded the corner, looking at me in surprised bafflement and saying, "Nadja?"

"Oscar!" I gasped. "Oscar..." I stumbled over to him and grasped the front of his jacket. "Uncle Hermann—he's going to kill him! You have to help-"

Of course, I've always loved Oscar dearly. He's wonderful company—witty and funny and just a little rebellious—and a most loyal friend, but I love him most of all, and will never, ever stop loving him for what he did then. A lesser person may have tried to get a grasp on the situation, or tried to talk sense into me, or suggested leaving briefly to get a key. Oscar did none of these things. He didn't even hesitate.

He simply said, "Stand aside, Nadja," and proceeded to ram himself against the door.

Either the door was terribly weak or Oscar was terribly strong—possibly a bit of both—because the door fell in at the second try.

Inside the room, Uncle Hermann had his gun pointing at Keith; the breaking of the door proved to be just enough of a distraction, because the next second he was on the floor again, and Keith had tossed the gun to the other side of the room.

I never noticed Oscar striding forward to restrain Uncle Hermann—all I saw was Keith, as he staggered backwards tiredly to lean against the wall behind him.

"_Keith_…" I heard his name slip from my lips as though they had a will of their own. Keith opened his eyes and smiled at me.

"Nadja," he replied. Something broke in me. I closed the distance of a few steps that lay between us in a single leap, and had burst into hysterical tears before I knew what was happening. I clutched his jacket in trembling fists, and buried my face into his shoulder.

I knew I was a little insane, and I didn't much care. I felt his arms around me. He held me tightly—I probably couldn't have escaped his embrace if I'd wanted to.

"Nadja…it's okay," he told me quietly. I looked up to see him looking down at me with serious eyes. There was something in those sparkling eyes that hadn't been there six years ago. It was a strong spirit that made his eyes sparkle all the more, and I loved it. I loved everything about him, I decided; even his faults.

And I had almost lost him.

The thought had another round of tears in my eyes. Keith moved a hand to my cheek and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

"It's all right," he repeated gently. "Everything's all right now." But he had still almost died.

Standing on my tiptoes and holding myself up with my hands on his shoulders, I pressed my lips to his before I had time to reconsider. I felt the dry warmth of his lips against mine, and wondered what I ought to do next. Then he responded, moving his hand from my cheek to thread through my hair at the back of my neck to change the angle as he took control, and what remained of my mind went flying out the window. His other arm tightened around my waist, holding me up. Released of the necessity to hold myself up without strangling him, I wrapped my arms around his neck.

It was a desperate kiss, and I suddenly knew that he was feeling the same way I was. I had almost been shot as well, I realized. I pulled away for a moment, looking apologetically into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I apologized with all the sincerity I could muster. He pulled me back to him with a small smile that allowed me to see the worry and relief that he had been hiding, and pressed his lips to mine once more. It wasn't abrupt, desperate, or meant to distract like any of the previous kisses we had shared. This one was actually gentle, but it made my entire body tingle, and I thought that this kiss must be expressing more passion than all of the other kisses combined.

I think I was muttering his name at some point, and I'm reasonably certain that we must have kissed over and over again. I have a vague recollection that he was holding me so close that he had lifted my feet off the ground, and even of murmuring something about never letting go of him ever again. I know that his mask fell off at some point. But all I really remember is that he was _there_.

I know that we broke apart when we heard someone clearing his throat, and sanity came back to both of us in a staggering rush. I almost swung around, but while Keith had set me back on the ground, he had not released me. I had to settle for twisting my body somewhat to look behind me.

It was Oscar, of course, who was looking more amused than he had any right to be, and I felt the blood rush into my face.

"Oscar!" I gasped, and tried to struggle out of Keith's hold. All I actually managed was to turn around within the circle of Keith's arms—and even that only because he loosened his hold.

"I am sorry to interrupt," he said, "but I'm going to need to call the police, and forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm not certain that you want to be seen like that with an unmasked Black Rose."

I looked round at Keith in surprise to find that yes, indeed, his mask had fallen off. My bewilderment must have shown, because Keith said helpfully, "It was when you were trying to touch any part of me you could reach," and there were _so many_ connotations that that could have carried. I turned redder than I can remember ever being.

Oscar, much to my chagrin, laughed. I looked back at him to fix him with a glare. He simply smiled back, and asked, "So, are you going to introduce me to my future cousin-in-law?"

"What makes you assume that I'll marry him?" I shot at him, more out of the need to be contrary than anything.

"Probably your declaration that you'd never let me go again," Keith suggested.

"I never-"

"Oh yes you did." I really couldn't say anything to that.

"Well?" asked Oscar.

"Where's Uncle?" I stalled.

Oscar smiled, and Keith pulled me closer—neither was fooled, but they indulged me anyway.

"I bound him, gagged him, and handed him over to the butler for safekeeping till the police get here," Oscar told me.

"Bloody fool deserves to be sliced and diced and fed to the crows," Keith muttered under his breath. "And I suppose you'll need witnesses?"

"It would be helpful, yes," Oscar shrugged.

"I'd best go change, then. Got anywhere I can hide these clothes?"

"Come with me—Nadja, will you-"

"I'll be alright on my own," I smiled. I hoped it wasn't shaky with my disappointment—I suppose I'd been expecting Keith to force an admission out of me. They'd given me a perfect opening too—why hadn't I said something? "I'm just going down to the kitchen to get something to settle my stomach."

"I suppose I'll have to let you go then," Keith sighed, but he had already let go and stepped away. I felt the loss of his warmth as acutely as a knife. "I'll come to you as soon as I'm changed," he told me, but it was a small comfort.

"Of course," I smiled bravely. I wondered if either would notice that it was faked. Obviously they didn't, because he and Oscar left. I fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, staring at the spot of blood before me.

_"A pebble?" the little girl scoffed. "You think I could defend myself against anything with a _pebble?_"_

_"Why is that so strange?" asked the little boy. "That's the whole concept of a gun—a tiny object, moving really, really fast."_

_"But a human can't make an object that tiny go fast enough to make a hole!" the girl protested._

_"I'm not talking about becoming a gun—all you need to do is master a certain degree of accuracy, and learn which points on a human are most vulnerable, and you're all set."_

_"What?"_

_"See, if you know, for example, that the center of the temple is a point on the human body that is very vulnerable to impacts, all you have to do is learn to throw a pebble perfectly enough to hit that spot with enough force to affect the person."_

_"That doesn't sound easy."_

_"It's easier with practice. All you really need is accuracy. Watch." And he picked up a few pebbles and threw them at a tree one by one. They struck with such force that they bounced off the tree trunk—and each time, they struck the same spot._

_"How do you do that?" the little girl asked, hungry for information. "Teach me!"_

_The boy smirked, satisfied that he had made for himself an admirer. "Well," he said, and not without some smugness, "it's all in the twist of the wrist, you see..."_

I opened my eyes to Keith leaning over me. I said his name, and relief crossed his face.

"She's alright," he announced to someone behind him. Then he turned back to me. "Can you stand up?" he asked, even as he slid an arm around me and helped me to lift myself to my feet. Oscar came around to help me on my other side. I would have told them that I could stand on my own, but my legs were like willow twigs and would not hold me.

"The police are here," Oscar whispered, putting an arm around my waist to take me over from Keith. For a moment, my disoriented mind wondered why; then it occurred to me that police meant that I would have to reassume the part of the Preminger heiress, and it was hardly proper for me to be held up by a man of no relation to me.

I looked at Keith, cxpecting (and almost hoping for) an excpression of pure loathing and jealousy for Oscar. But he did not even look my way, and merely made his way over to the door and opened it.

"The lady is tired," he announced, "so we will reconvene in the sitting room."

"Reconvene" was probably not the right word, because we all made our way down to the sitting room together. It reminded me of a gaggle of women setting off on a nutting party, and I would have giggled if I had not resumed the part of Nadja Preminger.

"Now," said the first policeman when we had all made ourselves comfortable in the sitting room—well, some of us, at any rate. I sat in one of the easy chairs, and the policemen took the couch opposite me. Oscar sat in the easy chair on my right, but Keith insisted on standing on my left as if he were my butler. I looked up at him reproachfully, but her refused to meet my eyes; so I let it go. "We must ask you some questions regarding recent events..."

"Certainly," I replied, inclining my head in a way that would show them my willingness while giving the implication that it was a privilage of theirs to receive my assistance.

"You are Nadja Preminger, heir to the Duke Preminger, correct?" asked the second policeman.

"Quite right."

"You have not been at home for two weeks now because of threats you received from your uncle, correct?"

"Indeed." Obviously, Oscar and Keith had filled them in to an extent before coming to get me.

"Could you tell us more about that threat, and where you were these two weeks? If you please, Frauline," he added hastily at a nudge from the other policeman.

So I told them about my uncle's actions at the ball that night, and omitted the Black Rose from the tale entirely by making out as though I had been helpless in a strange world when Troupe Dandelion had found me and taken me into their care without ever actually lying.

As they pursued the rest of my story, I found myself being rather vague about the first shooting as well; letting the incident sound like a silly little blunder on someone's part rather than a malicious action of my uncle's. Keith's hand fisted on the arm of my chair, his knuckles turning white, and I found that I wanted nothing more than to place my hand over his and relieve him of at least some of that fury. But, of course, that would hardly have been proper, so I did not.

When I reached the part about the shooting that involved the whole Troupe, I explained that I did not really know what happened, since it all happened so fast, but that all I knew was that one moment I was by the car, and the next I was in a dark room with my uncle. The policemen nodded sympathetically at that, and then I explained the goings on in the room. Keith took over when I looked at him just before the part where he entered. He took over then, saving me the agony of attempting to address him without offending him by lowering his status or revealing his identity any more than he wished.

The story was concluded and the police asked for a few more details and then left—Oscar explained later that they had spoken to and collected Uncle before coming up to see me—and so did Keith. He did not leave me with so much as a goodbye, but spoke in hushed tones extensively with Oscar before he left. Afterwards, I dropped hints that I wanted to know what had transpired between Oscar and Keith, but Oscar gave no indication that he picked up on any of them, and I interpreted that as a refusal to divulge any information.

This became a rift between me and Oscar—the first rift to ever form between us—and it was in formal tones that we bid one another good day after he saw me off to my Mother's manor. Mother, of course, asked him to stay, but he refused politely and left. It was the first time that he had not even stayed for tea.

I felt rather broken. I had my Mother, of course, but coming home to her did not carry the same fulfillment that I had expected. She welcomed me back with open arms, embraced me, told me she had worried...and I realized that she knew less than the police had known about what had happened to me in the past two weeks. The ones who had been with me and helped me through the ordeal were all further from me than they had ever been—Oscar and I were at odds with each other, Keith was cold and seemed to have lost interest in my existance, and I had no idea what had become of Troupe Dandelion—and I was left with a cold void inside of me.

The thought of retelling the twisted story I had told the police made me feel exhausted; the thought of retelling the tale as I actually remembered it made me want to cry. So I told Mother that I was too tired to tell her anything just now, and could I possibly take a nap and tell her when I woke?

She agreed, and I went to bed.


	16. Trysts of Every Sort

Chapter Fifteen: Trysts of Every Sort

I woke to familiar surroundings that now felt cold and unfamiliar. I dressed mechanically without any help—putting on a corset alone was virtually impossible, so I forwent the thing—and went downstairs. Mother wasn't in the sitting room as she usually was; nor was she in the dining room. The clock said it was a quarter to six in the evening, and I couldn't think of where else she might be. Wondering if she had gone out somewhere, I decided to ask Albert. He would be in his study at this hour, I decided, and made my way in that direction.

As I approached the study, hushed voices caught my notice. They were coming from the study, and as I drew closer, I realized that Albert and Mother were coming as close to arguing as I had ever heard them come.

"-not a child anymore, she can handle it."

"_No._ If you think that I will subject my daughter to that horror..."

"You go on like an arranged marriage is a death sentence! Is being married to me so horrible?"

"What if she has someone on her mind?"

"You said she didn't last time we discussed the matter."

"But that was before this whole fiasco and..."

"And you think she might have met someone in the common world? Colette, we had best hope not. That would be a tragedy."

"Are you suggesting that it wouldn't be horrible to wed Nadja to someone who would have been inconceivable as a potential husband before today?"

"Oscar is hardly that bad. You know as well as I do how Nadja adores him. Your father wants the match to go through, and you know how he is."

"I know how Nadja is as well."

My blood went cold. Grandfather wanted me married to _Oscar?_ Oh, of all the...!

I listened vaguely to the hushed tones as I tried to envision myself married. It had always seemed so far off that I had never really thought about it, but now I envisioned everything. I envisioned my wedding, walking down an aisle to a man who had always been a brother to me, my heart pounding with trepidation rather than anticipation. I tried to envision the wedding night, but my stomach churned and I turned my mind away. I envisioned the first months, of me and my husband growing used to being together in the same household, and learning to run the household together by dividing the work to be done. I envisioned our children, who would eventually fill our house with joy and laughter—joy which we would impede by forcing them to be docile, and laughter which we would silence because it was not proper.

It was not a bad life, really. The only problems were that it was _Oscar_ who would be beside me all the while. I loved Oscar, I had no doubt of that, but I simply _could_ not think of marrying him. I knew that it was still not that uncommon a practice to wed one's cousins, and yet the thought of me and Oscar together was just...wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, _wrong!_

I did not wait to listen to the rest. I retreated back to my room, all appetite for food, conversation and company diverted. In my room, I tried again to envision me and Oscar together, perfectly happy as Mother and Father had once been. It didn't work.

I went outside onto my balcony and tried again. This time, instead of starting with Oscar, I started with what I wanted. I envisioned my children first: happy and outspoken and above all _free_. I would live in a mansion of course...but it would be a small one. One that I could oversee myself, without too many servants... And the garden wouldn't be one of the extensive ones, like Grandfather had at his house. It would be small: large enough to host a small party, perhaps, but small enough for me to care for on my own, mostly just lawn, but with nice flower beds around the sides. The kitchen would be a place where the cook could do her work, but I could help if needed and my children could play while I worked and watched them. We wouldn't need too many bedrooms: one for me and my husband, one for the children, and three or four extra for guests, and to be the childrens' when they grew old enough to have their own rooms.

This vision of mine expanded. The world before me grew vivid: the friendly neighborhood, the cook and the housekeeper (who would be the only servants we would have)... And then I saw my husband. He was smiling, laughing as he played with our eldest boys—they would be twins, you see—and he was still as handsome as I knew he'd been the day I married him, only happier, less sullen, more mature...and he wasn't Oscar, I suddenly realized. He had no shoulder-length dark grey hair or smiling, gentle grey eyes: no. His hair was golden, sparkling in the sun, and his eyes were the deepest blue, and their mischievous sparkle shone more than all the stars in the sky. And the children, I realized. Their hair may have been a few shades lighter than his, but there was no doubt that they were his, not Oscar's.

I wiped the vision from my mind. Was that what I wanted? I wondered. Would I live my life with Oscar, sneaking around with Keith all the while? Or perhaps that was not what I wanted. Perhaps I wanted to live my days out with Keith, day and night, together regardless of what the world thought.

The best that I can do to discribe how I felt then is to say that I was confused, very confused. There was no earth-shattering revelation, or fireworks that shouted the truth to me. It was simply that I was so confused that I tried to clear my mind of it all: banish it beyond my thoughts, so that it would not confuse me so. And as I shoved all the useless emotions away, slowly my mind cleared and I thought with increasing certainty that I must love Keith.

It really should have been quite obvious, I thought. All the confusion, how much I had been thinking about him of late, my reaction when I thought he would be killed...

My face felt cold. I touched my cheeks, intending to warm them with my hands; my fingers touched water. How strange, I thought, I was crying. It really didn't seem like that big a deal. But the realization that one is distressed enough to cry seems to be enough to trigger more tears, and soon I was sobbing my heart out.

And Keith was there. I realized it with abrupt certainty when I noticed something rustling on a branch. I reached out to him and called his name. There was silence for a moment, and I wondered if I had been mistaken—or perhaps he was still angry at me over the Francis incident. But my instincts weren't quite that off.

He was no more than a black, bird-like shadow when he leapt from the tree, but when he landed on the railing before me, he was the Black Rose, quiet and solemn as he looked at me and I looked at him.

"Can we talk for a bit?" I asked, hating that my voice sounded feeble and week.

"Cerntainly," he replied, gracefully climbing down from the railing. He shook out his cape, then removed that, his top hat, and the mask.

"You've been avoiding me." There was no need to sugar coat the fact.

"You needed space."

"I might have thought so."

A silence that lasted a while.

"Was it the thing with Francis?"

He stiffened, but didn't say anything.

"Nothing happened."

He snorted.

"Really. He was just a bit confused. We straightened everything out, and he went after Maryann."

Keith sighed and shook his head. "That isn't it."

It was my turn to snort.

"Fine, maybe it bothered me a bit." The reluctance in his voice was palpable, and I had to look down to hide my grin as I smothered a laugh. There was a long silence, and when I looked up he was glaring down at me and I knew I hadn't fooled him. I quickly sobered. "What are we, Nadja? We're not lovers, that's for sure. But we're not exactly friends either. How much do you really know about me? We've barely talked about ourselves these past few weeks. I love you—that's not about to change—but we're not..." He trailed off, then shook his head. "No. What I want to say is...we can't go anywhere from here. You live in this world"-he made an expansive gesture-"and love your mother and cousin too much to leave it for me. I love my freedom too much to abandon it for you—I can't say that I love my freedom more than I love you, but if I abandoned it to join you here, I would go insane and you would go mad trying to cope with my presence. It's stalemate, and regardless of what may or may not have happened between you and my brother, that's only what started me thinking. And I don't want to start something that I know is never going to work out in the long term. It would hurt us both, I think."

I was looking over his shoulder at the trees outside, contemplating what he'd said. Yes, I could see the logic in what he'd said. A moment ago, I'd been ready to leap over the fence that divided our worlds and join him in his. But how happy would I be there? At least if I were married to Oscar, I knew I would be happy. I would be living with someone I got along with, and it wasn't as if the discomfort of a more-than-platonic relationship had to continue at all once I'd conceived an heir. But more than anything, I would be in familiar territory—it was unlikely that anything should occur that would be very surprising.

Still, Mother had been happy to elope with Father. Why couldn't it be the same for me?

I knew why: there were too many people around me whom I loved and who loved me. Mother had had only Uncle and Grandfather—Uncle had been at school and too full of himself to take much notice of his elder sister at the time; Grandfather had been the one to drive her away with his insistance that noble blood in the man who would be her husband was more important than her happiness.

And like Keith had said, I didn't know him. How could I _know_ I'd be happy with a man I couldn't say I knew?

"One day," I told him. "Let me spend one day with you. We've been spending time together in bits and pieces, but we've never really spent one long period of time together."

He gave me a long look. Then he shook his head, and smiled. "Why not? But it's getting dark now—would you like me to come back in the morning?"

I contemplated this a moment, then shook my head. "Let's go now. As long as we're back around noon tomorrow, no one will notice."

He raised his eyebrows as I hurried inside and stuffed a few of my pillows under my covers. Satisfied that it looked as though I were still asleep, I exited to the balcony and closed the curtains behind me, and then the door. "Shall we go?" I asked of him, and he smiled and gave me his arm.

It wasn't as though we ran in circles around Vienna doing as much as we could. In fact, nothing we did was even all that far from ordinary. Keith, of course, had shed his Black Rose disguise and was wearing a neat shirt, jacket and trousers underneath that could have passed for either commoner or noble. I was impressed, and belatedly realized that I had not bothered to change—but that didn't matter because we went to the library and spent the remainder of the evening there until it closed. Then Keith took me to a shop that sold odds and ends—and was _always_ open at awkward hours, Keith told me—where, despite my protests, he bought me an old but nice-looking dress. Even my insistance that the skirt was too tattered were met by his assurance that it really wasn't. Finally I caved and changed. There was a slit in the skirt that went up to the middle of my thigh, and I felt horribly inadequately dressed. But Keith just took the dress I had come out in and was gone for all of thirty seconds before he was back without the dress and suggested we move on.

I asked where we would go, scarcely believing that anything else would be open at that hour. He proved me wrong, and showed me to a place much like a bar, only quite different. There were drinks to be bought, but most of the people were dancing. It wasn't like the cafes that I had seen on my travels, where a dancer would spend the night dancing for the guests. No—there were only four couples, but those people obviously danced for pleasure, and it was almost like a ball, only I had never _imagined_ that one could dance so wildly in partner dancing. There was even one couple practicing the steps clumsily on the edge of the floor.

"How does anyone lead—let alone follow—a dance like that?" I whispered to Keith, awed. He grinned.

"Why don't I just show you?"

Then he led me onto the dance floor and took my hand and put a hand around me...which settled rather low on my hips rather than high on my back, as I was accustomed. Before I could exclaim, he stepped closer and pulled me close—so that our bellies and thighs were flush against one another, and I was about to remark that partner dancing couldn't be done when the partners were that close...

...Then he began to move.

And suddenly, with fully clarity, I understood. The slit in the dress, the closeness: it was all intentional, for it was all a part of this dance. It was more like the flamenco than any dance I'd ever danced—the steps, the speed, the music, the rhythm. But it was this closeness of the partners that allowed this wild dance to be led. With so much of our bodies touching, Keith scarcely had to _lead_—he just had to hint, and I could follow.

I watched other couples out of the corner of my eyes—they all danced as closely as us, of course. To my surprise, I realized that while the man led, the dance was almost _made_ for the woman. The man could lead them into a spin, or a twist, or a low dip, but the woman could choose to kick one or both of her legs gracefully at the ceiling, or release her partner to include her arms in the dance.

Of course, I realized. The dances I knew were led with the arms. This was led with the body, and so it was only natural that a woman should be able to do other things with her arms (but only if she picked the right moments, of course. If she let go as the man was trying to send her into a spin or a lift, for instance, the whole dance would be thrown off). And, in turn, because it was led by the body, the man could feel it when the woman changed the pattern, and could accomadate it—the woman played a part as the lead as well.

The first time that Keith pulled me in for one of the closer spins, I kicked up my legs, and he turned the spin into a lift. I danced in the air until I was back on the floor.

For the first time in my life, I was dancing a partner dance that allowed the two dancers to stand on equal footing. It was exhilirating.

That was my introduction to the dance called the tango. We danced until the bar closed in the early hours of the morning.

It was still dark, so Keith took me on a walk through nighttime Vienna.

What I had previously known of nighttime Vienna was not very much in its favor—muggers, thieves, angry uncles... But Keith showed me my city by taking me up windowsills, up the rafters, and up to the top of the roof of a house at the top of a hill—and I understood that Vienna was beautiful. There were some lights scattered throughout the little houses, packed closely together. The streets were silent and still. There was a fountain in a square not far away that I could see from the roof—the three street lamps in the square reflected off the water, and it sparkled like a gem. The roofs were uniform in places but not in others, and it was almost like a jungle that was a city.

Keith and I sat there and watched the sunrise. We never said a word.

The first time he spoke after climbing up to the roof was to tell me that we ought to get down before the house's inhabitants woke , or else we would need to find a way down that didn't make use of the window sills.

Then we wandered through the market square, watching and sometimes chatting with shopkeepers.

Every so often, Troupe Dandelion would cross my mind and I wanted to ask Keith if he knew what had become of them and where they were. But the answer scared me—even an "I don't know" would be horrific, so I kept my silence on the subject.

Soon the sun was high in the sky. I didn't even notice Keith slip away when he did, but he could not have been gone long anyway—and when he returned, he had my dress.

"Time to go back," he said.

We had scarcely spoken in all the hours that we had spent together, yet I didn't regret a single moment. It felt far too soon to be back on my balcony.

I thought of Mother and her fury at her husband and father on my behalf. I thought of Oscar, and of Grandfather's plans for him and me. I thought of Albert and his suggestion that we simply cave to Grandfather. But irrational though it was, none of those people, not even all of them combined seemed enough of a reason for me to stay at the price of leaving Keith in the past forever.

That was why I caught his hand as he turned away.

"I want you to stay," I whispered. I saw his back slump.

"I can't, Nadja," he said, and his voice sounded dead. "I hate this world too much."

"Not like that." I gripped his hand tighter. "Stay with me. I don't care where. Here, there, anywhere—I can't cut off my ties with this world like you did, you're right about that. But I'm not so attached that I need them permanently by my side."

He looked around me, and his eyes were sad. "You think that now. How do you know you'll think the same ten, twenty, even fifty years from now? You're seventeen. I'm twenty. Who's to say we know our own minds at our age? What if we end up regretting it? Coming with me is final—even if we never actually make it to a church, your reputation will be ruined as far as noblility is concerned."

"Who's to say that _anyone_ knows their minds?" I snapped back. "My uncle was well into his fourties, yet Oscar has far fewer regrets!"

Keith didn't say anything. There was a knock on the door, and my head swung to the side to stare at the door, then back at Keith in horror. My anger had evaporated in a second, but he was already half way out the window. My chest felt constricted.

"Just...just come back tonight?" I asked. He only gave me a brief nod before he left, but it was good enough for me.

"Come in."

The door opened. It was Mother.

"Nadja," she said. There were dark circles under her eyes, and I suspected that she hadn't slept last night either. Suddenly, I regretted my attempts to get Keith to take me with him. It was all well and good for _me_, but what about Mother? Would she feel like she was losing me? I remembered the descriptions Edna and Albert had given me of Mother's depression after Father's death. I would never toss her back into that despair—but what if I almost had, in my selfishness?

I felt ashamed.

"Are you alright, Mother?" I asked, slipping out of bed.

"I am well," Mother smiled, and I wondered if she was lying. "Did you sleep in those clothes, Nadja?"

I realized that I had not changed, and flushed a little. "I woke and changed last night. I did not want to bother you, but nor did I sleep much after that, and by the time I grew tired, it hardly occurred to me to change."

Mother smiled. "Then get some sleep now. I will come back and talk to you when you wake again. Come wake me if I am asleep." She knew I wouldn't, but she said so anyway.

"Thank you, Mother." She smiled at me and moved to leave. "Mother?" She turned back. "I love you."

It seemed like so long since I had seen her smile the way she smiled then. "I love you too, my Nadja."

I ran across the room, and she pulled me into an embrace. It felt like years since I had been held by my mother this way. "I love you," I murmured again.

"And your father and I love you." It _had_ been years since she had felt the need to assure me of Father's love. "Always. No matter what you choose." I stiffened. Did she know about Keith? Or was she referring to the issue of my possible betrothal to Oscar, and telling me that it was alright to refuse? "Now get some sleep."

And she released me and was gone. I was too tired to pursue her.

When I woke, Keith was sitting at my bedside. I looked outside and saw that it was dark. I sat up abruptly. "The time! What time is it?"

Keith looked amused. "Still before midnight," he replied.

"Thank goodness," I gasped even as I threw myself out of bed and went digging for my flamenco dress.

"Why the rush?" asked Keith as I cursed, realizing that all my dancing girl possessions were still with Troupe Dandelion. Keith just looked more entertained.

"If it gets too late, we won't be able to go to the tango bar!"

"They don't close until four, honey. We've got plenty of time."

I scowled. "If you're going to use endearments, stick with 'dear' or 'darling.' I'd rather not be a sticky liquid stolen from viscious insects."

"Yes, dear." That made it sound more intimate than I had intended—domestic, like we really were married, and I felt a shiver run down my spine despite myself. "If it's a dress you need, I brought the one from last night."

"Thank you!" I took it—practically snatched it, actually—from him. "Now look the other way or close your eyes or something so I can change." I wasn't telling him to leave—it was what an immature man could easily construe as an invitation to peek. I wondered if he was rogue enough to interpret it as such.

But I watched him out of the corner of my eye as I changed, and he kept his back to me, apparently transfixed by the wall he faced. I decided that maybe it wasn't so foolish of me that I had found myself considering spending the rest of my life at his side.

"Done!" I announced. "Let's go!"

I practically slid down the tree by the balcony, hardly hearing his warnings that it was dangerous.

We followed the same routine that day—danced the tango, watched Vienna and then the sunrise from a rooftop—a different one this time—and spent the morning wandering through the market.

Keith led me back home earlier this time, insisting that I had taken no pains to conceal my absence and that my mother might worry. It occurred to me that it would be something of a miracle if she actually believed that I slept as long as I was pretending to, but that seemed somewhat insignificant. I conceded, but only after he promised that I would see him again that evening.

I had scarcely finished changing after he left when Mother came hurrying into the room.

"Nadja?" she called. I was surprised—she was hurrying, and she hadn't knocked. Was something wrong? "Nadja, you have guests downstairs. Are you here?"

"Yes, Mother," I said, exiting my dressing room whilst finishing braiding my hair. Instantly the panic left her demeanor and she was her usual self.

"Come; there are some people here to see you."

She would tell me no more, and just led me downstairs to the sitting room.

"Nadja!" squealed Rita. I caught her up in a hug, smiling. If I was horrified to see the sling that held her left arm, I didn't let it show.

Kennosuke was sporting a grin and a few scratches on his faces; the others all seemed to be trying to conceal some degree of bandages. I perceived as I had with Rita that to mention the bandages before anything else would be to push them away—I had a good enough idea of what must have happened.

So I looked at them all and smiled and greeted each in turn. Then I turned to Mother and grinned. "Mother, these people are Troupe Dandelion; they saved me and helped me and I'm so in their debt I can hardly thank them enough. Everyone, this is my Mother." I began introducing the Troupe to her.

Leader scolded me for talking about debt, because we were practically family; Creme and Chocolat had already taken to Mother and were rubbing against her ankles and purring for attention before I had even finished my introductions; but before I was half way through the names of the troupe members, chaos was already reigning and Kennosuke and Rita were distracting me with a detailed account of what had happened that night. I snuck a glance at Mother as I found myself wanting to hear what had actually happened, since I knew nothing. Mother seemed deep in conversation with Silvy, so I turned back to Kennosuke and Rita, hoping that Mother wouldn't chance to listen in on our conversation.

"They knocked you out with a branch," Rita was explaining. "And we all thought you'd been shot-"

"Rita," Kennosuke scolded, "Don't be cryptic. You can't just tell her that she was hit with a branch without explaining how that happened, you'll just confuse her!"

"Oh. Okay. Nadja," Rita said seriously. "One of the men snuck up behind you with a big tree branch and hit you, and you fell over, but he had a gun and someone else had shot just when he hit you, so we all thought you'd been shot. The grown-ups got really mad and started going at them even more violently, but the men took you away like we didn't even matter once they'd got you, and we tried to chase them, but they shot at us and... Nadja? What's wrong?"

I blinked.

"Don't be stupid," Kennosuke hissed, "you're talking about how her uncle kidnapped her. Of course it would be upsetting to her."

"Really?" asked Rita, peering at me worriedly. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean, 'that's all'?" Kennosuke demanded. Rita was quite perceptive, I observed.

But I could not very well tell her what was on my mind. The word 'grown-ups' had caught in my mind, and I had realized that Granny, Leader, Thomas and Arvell had joined Mother and Silvy—we had separated in to 'adults' and 'children,' and I wondered at myself for seriously considering my future with Keith and for thinking of such things just then, yet I couldn't help myself. Rita and Kennosuke were telling me about a situation that had threatened our lives mere days ago, and I was distracted by a petty concern of my own. I really must be heartless, I thought miserably.

"Yes, that's all," I replied with a forced smile. "It was quite alarming..." I shuddered to remember my uncle and the way he had looked at me in that room, but turned my mind from the matter before my mind could tie it back to...the person who had turned up later.

"But why did you all show up here so suddenly? Not that I'm unhappy to see you! I'm delighted, in fact, and I was so worried about you, but didn't know how to find you... But..."

Rita cocked her head and exchanged a look with Kennosuke.

"A young man came to visit late yesterday afternoon," Silvy smiled, and suddenly the entire room was focused on this subject. "He asked if we could possibly visit you this afternoon since you'd been concerned over our well-being."

_Keith_. I knew without having to ask, and almost laughed—so this was why he had brought me back earlier today. But why hadn't he just taken me to visit them, I wondered?

"So he gave us directions, and what to tell the gatekeeper and everything," Rita grinned.

"I didn't know you were friends with gentlemen," Kennosuke muttered. Rita pursed her lips and glared at him. Gentlemen? I wondered at that word.

"Don't be silly," Rita said to him. "Of course she would know gentlemen—she's a lady!"

Silvy and Mother chuckled at that. I felt those three words stab at me like a knife. Had this ordeal built a wall between me and my commoner family? Suddenly horror gripped me. Would they ever let me dance with them again?

Then all the energy drained out of me at once as I recalled that I would be wed to Oscar, and my wayward days would come to an end anyway.

"Who was this young man?" Mother asked Silvy suddenly, and I felt my heart leap in my chest.

Silvy considered this a moment. "Dark grey hair and eyes. His hair was about shoulder-length. Quite good-looking...perhaps around twenty years old?"

And the world was comprised of puzzlement. Oscar? Why had _Oscar_ asked them to come? More to the point, how had Oscar known who and where they were, and how had he known that I wanted to see them? Keith I could understand—he'd always read me quite well, and had had the opportunity to do so. But Oscar? I hadn't seen him since the incident with Uncle Hermann.

I shrugged it off—he had probably wanted to find a way to make me feel better after the incident. I warmed to the thought—it had been such a horrible incident, after all. We all ought to help one another overcome it.

"I am so very sorry about everything that happened," I said at last. "If only..."

"If you're about to say something about it being your fault, or you not being there, then don't," Arvell interrupted gently.

"We helped you because you're a member of our family, and family sticks together no matter what. We couldn't have done otherwise." Silvy smiled at me, and I decided then and there that she was the elder sister I had never had.

I smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Don't be silly," Rita frowned. "Thanking us is almost as silly as apologizing."

I laughed and hugged her. She giggled and hugged back.

"So," said Mother, "as it is supper time, I propose that we all move into the dining room, where you can tell me more about how you all met. What do you think?"

I felt only a small amount of dread at the prospect of expaining what I had been doing all these years; everyone else thought it was a wonderful idea.

The dining room that evening was far more exciting than it had ever been in my life. My friends' manners were nothing like those of Mother and Albert, and while I noticed that Albert occasionally cringed at the head of the table, he was polite and friendly, and Mother seemed perfectly at ease. Leader was the primary figure in explaining how I had come to join them, but everyone else had things to pitch into the tale—a good deed I had done here, a new dance I had learned there, an interesting idea I had conceived here.

It made me blush to listen to them talk about me like I was some amazing person, but I saw that they were trying their best to make my mother understand why I had done what I had done—and Mother didn't seem condoning in the least. I felt my heart warm, love for everyone present bubbling over in my chest.

"They are good friends," Mother told me as soon as they had left after supper and the door closed behind them. "I'm glad that you have such wonderful people to love you."

"They're like my second family," I told her.

"They _are_ your second family," she told me, smiling at me before she turned and headed for her chambers.


	17. Betrothal

_Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update! Just maybe two chapters left to go... This wraps up Nadja and Keith's story for the most part, now there're just a few more loose ends that need to be tied off.  
_

Chapter Sixteen: Betrothal

I was still feeling giddy as I made my way back to my own room. When I entered the room to see Keith lounging on the bed, reading a book he had apparently taken from the bookcase, my giddiness probably should have left me in favor of a more serious mood. Instead, I all but skipped across the room to join Keith on the bed so that I could hug him.

"You're happy today," Keith remarked, wrapping one arm around me and setting the book down on the bedside table.

"The Troupe came to visit."

"Did they?" He didn't sound particularly surprised.

"They did, and they and Mother got along so marvelously, I couldn't have wished for more!"

"I'm glad." His other arm encircled me. I snuggled into his embrace. We were silent for a time.

"You know, it was Oscar who told them how to find me?"

"Really?"

"Mm-hm, and that seems quite strange, don't you think?"

"Does it?"

"How would Oscar have known that I wanted to see them, let alone who they were? And how would he have found a Troupe he knew nothing about unless someone else was involved?"

"Do you think so?" He looked at me. I searched his face.

"I know so."

A moment's silence. "He wanted to find something that would cheer you up, and asked me about your travel companions. So I found them and told him where they were. All the rest was his doing."

"Thank you," I whispered. Talking about Oscar with Keith felt awkward, as if I was lying to him somehow. I hesitated only a moment more. "Grandfather wants Oscar as his heir."

I saw Keith's eyes narrow. "Then you're freed of the place as family heir?"

I closed my eyes. "No. Blood matters to Grandfather more than anything. I heart Mother and Albert arguing the other day—Grandfather wants me to wed Oscar."

Keith's body stiffened against mine. I felt the danger of that moment—he had every excuse to leave me, to go and never return. It was only by sheer willpower that I didn't hold him tighter. I almost felt as if tightening my embrace would imply a cage—that it would imply an end to his freedom—and that that would drive him away.

"And what do you think?" he asked, looking at me straight in the eye. His eyes were intense.

"What do you think I think?" I whispered, looking aside. He caught my face and turned it to face his again, catching my eyes once more.

"That wasn't a question to be answered with a question. So I ask you again: what do you want?"

"That wasn't the same question."

"No. It was the intended question."

"I love Mother. I love Troupe Dandelion. I love Oscar." I averted my eyes and waited, expecting his arms to loosen around me; for him to interpret that as a rejection. Nothing happened.

"You haven't answered the question," he said after a few moments' silence.

So I looked him straight in the eye again and said, "But I love you more, and I'm sure I could be _happy_ with Oscar because we know each other well and we're like a brother and sister, but I think that lying with him would scarcely be bearable, and when I envisioned life with him, there was something wrong, so I envisioned what I wanted, and I realized that it was half way between this life and that life because there was a small mansion, but things like the house really don't matter to me as long as our children are free and happy and I can do most of the housework, but the point is that I can't imagine being really happy with anyone but you!"

He looked back at me. "Just because of my lifestyle? Then what about someone like Kennosuke?"

"Kennosuke...? No!" I shuddered. "It would be almost as bad as the Oscar scenario, only worse because I'd have to look after my husband like he was some sort of child! And it's _not_ just the lifestyle! It's our dancing, and our arguing, and our clashing moral values, and your freedom and the way you'll do anything for me, and-"

"Hold it!" he sat up, pulling me with him, and held me at arm's length away from him so he could glare. "Who ever said I'd do anything for you?"

"No one," I replied, sticking my tongue out at him. "But actions speak louder than words, especially with you."

"Are you implying that I'm not truthful?"

"Not in the least. Just that you can be unreliable every so often."

"When was I ever-" Against my better judgement, I chose that moment to pull his face to mine and kiss him. His hands tightened around my arms, then he wrapped them around me to pull me into his lap as he broke the kiss. "And I suppose that this unending sequence of arguing and making up is your idea of domestic bliss?"

I scowled. "If you're disagreeing-" He kissed me this time.

"Never fear, darling," he smirked when he pulled away. "Our idea of domestic bliss shall prevail over our lives for as long as we live."

"Was that a proposal?"

"No, it was an acceptance of your proposal."

"I wasn't aware that I had proposed."

"It was implied. But if you want to retract it-"

"No!" He blinked at my vehemence. I blinked back. "I suppose that's settled, then," I remarked off-handedly.

"I suppose it is," he whispered.

Something about the mood had changed. I was suddenly acutely aware that I was on his lap with his arms around my waist and mine around his shoulders. Every place where we were in contact tingled, and my palms felt sweaty. I fully expected him to kiss me then, so I was rather surprised when he lifted me off his lap and set me on my feet as he stood up himself.

"I'll be going then," he said. I would have been offended if he hadn't been smiling at me like he was the happiest person alive. As it was, I was just confused.

As he left, he kissed the back of my hand, which only served to puzzle me further. Now that we were betrothed, he was going to act the part of the proper gentleman who never took a step too far with the girl? In my opinion, his actions made no sense, But then again, had they ever?

I went to bed that night so completely and thoroughly bewildered that I expected to stay awake staring at the ceiling. But I was asleep the moment my head hit the pillow, and I slept more soundly than ever. Perhaps I had been more sleep deprived than I'd realized.

I woke to find that I had woken at a decent hour of the morning for once.

Once I was dressed—this time with the help of a maid—I headed downstairs to the dining room for breakfast for the first time in what felt like days. It had been days, in fact, I realized as I greeted Albert and Mother with a smile and sat.

"Good morning, Nadja," said Mother with a smile.

"I trust you slept well," Albert agreed.

"Good morning, Mother. Yes, I slept very well, thank you."

The butler brought in a bowl of cut fruit with yogurt and an empty plate which he set before me. I took a roll from the bread basket and tore it in half, smearing the inside with butter. As I finished the first half of the roll and started on the second, it occurred to me that it was strangely quiet.

I looked up curiously. Albert was looking at me thoughtfully, and Mother's eyes were cast to the side with her lips pursed in a way that indicated that she was displeased. I swallowed.

"What is the matter?" I asked carefully.

"Nadja..." Albert started, looking distinctly fidgity. "I wish there were an easier way to tell you this... But you do realize that you are now at an age where you are considered suitable for marriage."

I thought of my conversation with Keith last night and felt my face grow warm.

"Well, you are an attractive, independent young woman. I will understand if you have your own opinion on the matter. However, Colette and I—though we disagree on the subject—wish you to know that your grandfather has begun to set plans out for you, and intends to betroth you to Oscar."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I had completely forgotten.

"I am sure that you have any number of objections, but I hope that you will consider this carefully. He may be a brother to you now, but that is not a bad way to begin a marriage. For all you know, you may even find that-"

"No!" I suddenly stood, slamming my hands down on the table. Albert and Mother looked at me, apparently equally surprised. I froze, wondering if I ought to simply apologize and sit back down. I thought of Keith and decided that that was not an option. "Mother, Albert... I know that this may be difficult for you to digest. However, I wish you to know that I have promised myself to someone."

Mother stared. Albert looked like he wanted to do something drastic like fall off his chair or bang his head on a wall. I waited.

"Is this someone you met on your travels, Nadja?" Mother asked carefully after a long silence, looking straight at me as if trying to read into something that she knew I would not say.

I hesitated. "Not precisely. Actually..."

"Count and Countess Waltmullar, there is a young man at the door from the House of Harcourt."

"Harcourt?" Albert repeated. "As in Duke Harcourt? What would English nobility be doing in Vienna at this time of year?"

I considered this a moment. Why would a Harcourt be here? If it was a young man, it was probably Keith or Francis...but more likely Francis than Keith. Either way... "Show him in," I said. Albert gave me a look of surprise, but nodded at the butler.

"Please do so."

The butler bowed and left.

"Nadja, is this young Master Harcourt your intended?" Albert asked.

"I- He probably is not-"

"Count and Countess Waltmullar," the butler bowed upon his return, "young Master Keith Harcourt."

"Never mind," I sighed. My palms were suddenly sweaty. "He is."

Albert and Mother looked at me. I looked away, feeling my face heat up. What was Keith intending _now_?

"Count and Countess Waltmullar," Keith bowed upon his entrance. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

I closed my eyes. _Please act normal, please act normal..._

"Young Master Harcourt-"

"Oh, just call me Keith. I've disowned most of my family."

I thought I saw a light flash behind my eyes, and then I felt light-headed. Didn't Keith have any tact at all?

A pause. "It is an honor to meet you, Keith." Mother was the one to pick up the conversation. "Nadja just surprised us with the announcement that she is betrothed." Albert shot Mother an alarmed look which Mother ignored with a calm smile, and I wondered how much Mother had guessed.

"Did she really?" Keith's eyes danced.

"She was just about to tell us who he was and how they met."

"That sounds fascinating. Do go on, Lady Nadja."

I gritted my teeth. I could feel my face burning. "_Keith..._"

He laughed and made his way over to my chair, where he stood by my shoulder. I looked up at him, but he was looking straight at Mother—his eyes were still smiling, but they were now serious.

"As I'm sure you have already realized, I am Nadja's intended. As for how we met, we attended the same boarding school in Switzerland. We met there once as children and apparently made rather lasting impressions on one another. We met again over a month ago, and I have been courting Nadja ever since."

"A month is not very long," Mother remarked.

"Indeed," Keith agreed wryly (and with a slight slip of manners). I waited in horrified silence, expecting him to bring up the fact that he had been virtually stalking me for years. But Keith did not say anything more, and Albert was the next to speak.

"So you two are sure that you will not be changing your minds?" he asked. He sounded neither angry nor scandalized, and not for the first time, I felt sincere appreciation for Mother's choice of a husband.

"No, sir," Keith said at the same time as I replied, "Quite sure."

"I see." Albert nodded once. His expression was hard. "I know that Nadja is a responsible young lady, and I trust that you, Keith, as her chosen partner, are just as responsible. So I'm going to speak to you both very frankly, and I hope that you will hear me out. This is not going to be easy. Nadja is the designated heir to the House of Preminger, and the Duke is set on her marrying Oscar. You must realize that when his mind is set on something, the Duke will stop at nothing to have his way. Had he chosen for her any other random noble boy, I would not have hesitated to give you two the go-ahead. But Nadja and Oscar get along well, and it is far from an undesirable match. If you feel even a shred of doubt now, then the matter will probably end with one of you deciding that the path of least resistance, and caving under the pressure the Duke will apply. Are you absolutely positive of your decision, beyond a doubt?"

"Yes," we said in unison.

Albert smiled then. "Well then. If you're that certain, then I will support you two. Welcome to the family, Keith."

"Thank you, sir." I wondered if Mother or Albert could detect the note of surprise in his voice, and then wondered if Keith had not actually expected acceptance. I made a mental note to myself to ask him later.

"Do stay for lunch, Keith," Mother said. "I would very much like to get to know you."

"Thank you," Keith said again. "I will stay."

"Then that's settled. So, you say you met in school...?"

—————————

Keith didn't just stay for lunch; he stayed for tea, and then agreed to stay for supper as well. He and Albert seemed to like one another well enough, but it was Mother with whom Keith really hit it off. I theorized that it had something to do with their common ground as nobles who had left the noble world in favor of the common world, though I was not certain that Keith remembered what I had told him of Mother, or that Mother had picked up on the extent to which Keith had disowned his family name.

No doubt the day would have continued to proceed well and closed on a good note had it been left without interruption. But fate was not so kind that day, and when the butler announced that a Mr. Harcourt was waiting at the door and wished to speak with Count Waltmullar, I jumped and Keith stiffened. Albert raised a brow and excused himself before leaving; I think that Mother attempted to keep the tension at bay with smalltalk, but if she did, I could not have been very responsive.

It was a mere five minutes before Albert returned, and he looked...rather disturbed.

"Nadja," he addressed me, "our guest would like to see you."

Well, that was odd. Not just that this guest—probably Francis, since Duke Harcourt would have been addressed as such, rather than as "Mr. Harcourt"—was asking to see me, but that Albert should look so disturbed by that fact. I stood carefully, trying not to look at Keith. The proper thing to do would be to be chaperoned by my mother, and indeed she was standing from her seat as well; yet I dearly wished that Keith would come with me.

"Countess Waltmullar?" Keith suddenly spoke up. "I wonder if perhaps I could accompany Nadja."

Mother looked at him for a few moments, and then sat back down with a smile. "Of course, Keith. How kind of you."

I hoped that my sigh of relief was not very obvious.

Keith offered me his arm, which I took; we exited the room into the hallway, and were almost to the parlor when Keith stopped.

"Nadja, if you-"

"There's nothing between me and Francis, Keith," I said quickly. Keith's eyes clouded, his forehead furrowing.

"But that day, you seemed so-"

"If I seemed happy, it was because I had received confirmation that I am happiest with you. Francis was…_confused, _and didn't know what he was doing. I didn't push him away because I didn't want to hurt him, and-"

"From now on," said Keith in a low voice, "if anyone kisses you, or does anything to do that you do not want, do _not_ think of their feelings, do you understand me?"

"I don't think that-"

"I don't like it when you're so cavalier, Nadja. It feels like…I'm some sort of whim to you, and the moment you're distracted by someone else you'll run off to them!"

"Well, I won't. I'm marrying you, and there's not another man in the world who could make me feel half so much for him as I feel for you, so you'd better get used to it."

"Then, can I ask you never to kiss any man other than me, if only to reassure me?"

I blinked. There was a touch of vulnerability in Keith's expression, and I loved him all the more.

"I'll never kiss another man, and not because you tell me to, but because I have no desire to," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck to press my lips to his. His hands settled on my waist, holding me to him.


	18. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme

Chapter Seventeen: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme 

Francis looked up with a start when we opened the door. I wondered if he was jumpy to begin with, or if the shock was more due to Keith's casual presence at my side.

"Hello, Nadja, Keith," he said, his eyes darting back and forth between us as if trying to determine something.

"Hello, Francis," I smiled. Then I turned to the butler. "Would you bring in some tea and scones, please?"

"Oh, I really don't mean to stay that long," Francis spluttered awkwardly, as though he was not quite certain what was the appropriate action to take.

"I think we all need to talk about…a lot," I said, glancing at Keith. "Provided that you have the time, of course," I added hastily, realizing that there were perhaps other obligations that Francis had to fulfill before the day ended.

"Of course, I have the time…" Francis trailed off, eyeing Keith warily. I decided to pretend not to notice.

I seated myself on the sofa across from Francis, and Keith sat at my side. I glanced at him, wondering if he would say anything; he met my gaze and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. _What can you do with this situation?_—that hint of a smile challenged me.

I turned back to Francis with a smile. "I suppose you're wondering at Keith's presence here—I have an announcement to make. Keith and I are betrothed."

Francis's eyebrows shot up. "I'm surprised—I'd heard that you were betrothed to your cousin, Oscar Corlade."

I knew that my shock was clear on my face. "You—that's already been announced?"

Francis looked shifty. "Well…not announced, precisely. But Maryann has a good network of connections, and she happened to hear about plans for such an arrangement from a reliable source…"

I sighed. "Never mind, I shall deal with Grandfather tomorrow. Now, about Maryann…"

Francis immediately looked shifty. "Actually, I would prefer if we didn't-"

"Francis. You have to realize that Maryann feels more for you than just friendship—and you have to decide what she is to you. Otherwise you will end up hurting her and driving her away, and that won't be good for you or her or anyone."

"Er…" Francis looked awkward and even shiftier than he had before. "She and I had a little talk about that, actually…I asked her to wait a few days while I sorted out my thoughts."

My jaw dropped, and I realized that I had never really considered the possibility that Maryann might tell him how she felt at risk of losing him. I had expected her to treasure her friendship with him too much to risk losing that by telling him that she really did love him.

"You're getting married anyway, aren't you?" Keith asked, and I was grateful that he filled what would have otherwise become awkward silence.

"Well, yes," Francis confessed, "But I always thought it would be a marriage between friends. I never thought that she would feel—that it would be more than friendship."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Keith. He was not mocking or condescending—simply asking a question. I was proud of him—and then I wondered at the assumed intimacy of being proud of another person's actions. A moment later, I decided that the "assumed intimacy" of sneaking out at nights together was probably a greater matter, and so dismissed the thought.

"Nothing," Francis was replying. "Just…it feels different. That I would be thinking of her as a friend, and she would be thinking of me as a lover."

"It wasn't as though you would have had an affair," Keith pointed out. I felt my face heat up. "You're too honorable for that, whether or not your feelings for your wife were friendship or love."

"Not in front of Nadja!" Francis declared, scandalized by Keith's lack of propriety.

"How do you expect us to have an honest marriage if we can't speak our thoughts in front of each other?" Keith pointed out, rolling his eyes, and the flush of embarrassment I had felt was suddenly a flush of happiness.

"It's not about…who else I would see," Francis said awkwardly. The door opened and he jumped, betraying his discomfort at the direction that our conversation had taken. The butler entered with a tray, and Francis cleared his throat and continued. "It's…a matter of being on the same level. If she thinks of me as her beloved husband but I only see her as a friend whom I married out of obligation, the situation is bound to take a toll on her emotions."

"Only you would be so concerned about such matters," I said, smiling at Francis. "But tell me—if you had been marrying someone else…say, Lady Julietta Cardinale. Maryann was friends with her before she was married, so I assume you knew her as well?" Francis murmured in agreement, accepting a cup of tea from the butler. "Had you been her betrothed, would it bother you so much if she had loved you?"

Francis thought about this for a moment. "But…we had not known each other since a young age. It would have been different if we had, I'm sure."

"Never mind when you met or how long you knew each other. You're more concerned for Maryann than you would have been for anyone else. Don't you think that means something in itself?"

Francis fell silent, his eyes distant as he sipped his tea and pondered the matter.

I watched him for a moment, unconvinced that my point had reached him. I opened my mouth to continue my argument, but was forestalled by Keith's hand over my mouth. I looked up at him. _Let him think,_ he mouthed.

If Keith thought the point had gotten through, I decided that it probably had. I smiled, nodded and returned to sipping my tea.

* * *

The next morning, I was not surprised to find Keith absent when I opened my eyes. I dressed and went downstairs where I greeted Mother and Albert each with a kiss on the cheek.

"Keith and I will go and talk with Oscar and Grandfather today," I announced as we were finishing breakfast. The serene atmosphere of the breakfast table evaporated at once as Albert fixed me with a sharp look and Mother dropped her fork.

"Nadja, are you sure you want to go alone?"

"I won't be alone, Mother. Keith is going with me, and Oscar will surely join us in speaking to Grandfather as well."

"But…"

"Let Nadja do this, Colette," said Albert, although he looked less than happy with the arrangements himself. "If she, Keith and Oscar all object, I very much doubt that your father will be able to do anything but accept."

Mother pursed her lips, but nodded. Then she looked at me with a tense smile. "I will plan to visit Father this afternoon, immediately after lunch. If the matter is still unresolved, I shall join you in persuading him."

"Yes, Mother," I said, grateful for her support but unnerved by the extent to which she seemed to believe her own father incapable of reaching an agreeable arrangement.

Then I figured that she was merely remembering her own experience, and worried that I would follow in her footsteps. But surely Grandfather would not make the same mistake twice, I assured myself, not entirely certain if I believed it.

Keith arrived just as we finished breakfast—he had been watching through the window, I was certain—and exchanged brief greetings with Mother and Albert before he and I set out to the House of Corlade in a carriage.

The trip was hardly a long one, and I found myself nervous as we alighted a mere ten minutes later. It was only my cousin—and yet it was my cousin. I had never had to deal with these matters of marriage, and so I was uncertain that I would be able to handle the matter as delicately as it deserved.

"Count Corlade will be happy to receive you in the study. I have orders to lead you there whenever you arrived," the butler informed us as he ushered us through the front door and led the way.

"Thank you. This is Lord Keith of the House of Harcourt," I said formally, and with my hand properly on Keith's arm, we made our way down the hall after the butler.

"Lady Nadja, heir to the House of Preminger, and Lord Keith, of the House of Harcourt," the butler announced us as he stood to the side.

Oscar was rising from his desk as we stepped through the doorway.

"Nadja, Keith!" he said, and he sounded relieved. I was surprised to notice that there were bags under his eyes as if he had not slept decently in days. "I'm so glad you came. I have to talk to you about this…_betrothal_ that your grandfather is planning."

"Us, too," I said, peering into his eyes. There was a wild light in them, as if he was crazed with some powerful force. "Oscar…" I said slowly, "Is there a young lady?"

Oscar, instead of denying it or smiling deliriously, only looked more uncomfortable. "There is a young woman. I only have a single problem, you see—she is not a lady."

"You fell in love with a commoner!" I cried, delighted. "Oh, I cannot _wait_ to tell Mother, she will be so happy…this is wonderful, Oscar!"

He sighed. "For you, perhaps. Not for me."

"Why ever not? A love that overcomes social boundaries is the most _beautiful_ thing in the world!"

"Only a few people see things that way, Nadja," Keith said quietly.

"Look at what happened to your parents," Oscar pointed out.

A little of my happiness evaporated, but I refused to let it all go. "We can discuss that in a minute, but first—how did you meet her? Where is she?"

Oscar sighed. "After Herman left the family and I formally became the Count of Corlade, I decided I ought to attend some society functions, if only to let people know that I wasn't my uncle…and so I attended a ball that Lady Gonzales was holding in Paris."

"Of course you would pick her," sighed Keith. I eyed him suspiciously. He gave me an innocent smile that told me that yes, she was a former victim of his.

"The Lady has a nephew, a certain Fernando Gonzales, who thinks he has the right to lord over everything not wearing a crown." Oscar sighed tiredly at the memory. "There was a young woman he was particularly nasty to—she fumbled and tripped and he made it all the worse by hounding her cruelly. So I stepped in. And…well, I talked to her. She is the most beautiful person I've ever known."

I smiled. "If you feel that way, I'm sure that I will too. Can I meet her?"

But Oscar began to look shiftier than before.

"There's…a little more to this. You see…she was a maid."

And here I saw his problem. Not only was the girl not of noble birth, but she had served noble families as a servant—this was not something that Grandfather would ever accept.

My heart sank, and I looked at Keith. "Keith," I said, "I don't suppose you could…talk to your father? If you were heir to the House of Harcourt-"

Something flashed in his eyes, and I snapped my mouth shut. No, that was asking too much. I felt a wave of remorse sweep over me as I realized that I had been about to ask Keith to abandon everything that he was—everything that I loved him for.

Oscar was looking between us analytically, a smile breaking out on his face. "I see that I am belated in offering my congratulations. I cannot say I am surprised, but I was slightly preoccupied…"

"Never mind that," I waved him off. "If neither of us is in a condition that Grandfather will accept…"

Oscar leaned back and sighed. "I'd say that you two are more likely to have luck talking to him than I. I don't even carry Preminger blood, and you know he cares about lineage more than anything else."

I sighed and looked at Keith tentatively. Apparently, he didn't hold my earlier transgression against me, because he smiled and reached for my hand. "It's alright—we'll talk our way through this."

I was tempted to laugh—for once, Keith was the one proposing talking through a problem like a civilized person, and I was the one skeptical that it could ever work.

"But first," said Oscar briskly, standing from his seat, "I want you to meet my fiancée."

The butler had apparently taken his standing as a signal of some sort, and had already left the room. Oscar walked to the door, and by the time he opened it, the young lady and the butler were already there.

He ushered in a beautiful girl about my age, also with blond hair and blue eyes—though both a shade darker than my own. "Nadja, Keith—I'd like you to meet Rosemary Applefield."

Rosemary was clothed in a light purple gown that looked as if it had probably once belonged to Aunt Hilda; but she carried herself with a grace and a conviction that made her look more the part of a princess than anyone I had ever seen.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," said Rosemary, smiling brilliantly. "Oscar has told me so much about the two of you."

"Pleased to meet you too," I replied, and something about her made me warm up to her at once.

"Pleasure," said Keith tersely, and I glanced at him in bewilderment.

"Some champagne, please," said Oscar to the butler, and we returned to our seats, Rosemary settling beside Oscar as though she belonged there.

"We just heard about you, Rosemary—oh, I'm sorry, do you prefer to be called Miss Applefield?"

"No, Rosemary is just fine," she replied.

"Rosemary, then." I felt a smile break out on my face. "I was so proud of Oscar when I heard he'd decided to marry for love… I'm certain that we'll become wonderful friends."

"I'm sure we will," Rosemary smiled.

* * *

We set out for Grandfather's manor in two separate carriages. Keith and I rode in the carriage that we had arrived in, and Oscar and Rosemary took one with the insignia of the House of Corlade. It was only natural that we arrive this way, Oscar had pointed out—it would alert Grandfather to the fact that our arrival was formal in nature. The separate arrival of Oscar and myself would further let him know before we spoke to him that his hopes for our marriage were not an idea with which we concurred.

I was glad of the opportunity to speak with Keith in private, however, and the moment that the carriage started on its way I asked him the question that had been bothering me ever since Rosemary first entered the room.

"Why don't you like Rosemary?"

Keith looked at me sharply, and a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. "It isn't that I don't like her. But I don't think she's all that trustworthy."

I bit back the urge to deny his statement. "She seemed perfectly nice to me."

"Nice, yes. But what sort of maid gets close enough to a guest that they end up getting married? And her eyes were sharp—I think she's more calculating than she lets on."

I thought of the hour we had spent talking. Rosemary had been nice, certainly, but she had not said anything especially personal. She had been proper and ladylike and smiled when necessary, but when I thought about it, there was nothing that I knew of her as a person. "That doesn't mean that she's a bad person, necessarily…"

"Maybe, maybe not," replied Keith. "I'm not objecting to her, I merely think it isn't a bad idea to be wary."

I smiled, warmth bubbling into my chest. This was Keith as I had fallen in love with him—calculating and cynical, but willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.

I reached across and took his hand. "I love you," I said, feeling the atmosphere turn solemn and serious. "I love you so much."

Keith held my hand between both of his and brought them to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the back of my hand; then he turned it over and kissed my palm.

I brought my other hand up to hold his hands as he was holding mine, trying to convey the same amount of love that he showed me in a single look—in a single gesture. My words felt terribly inadequate.

He pressed his lips to my fingers again with his eyes locked on mine, and we stayed that way for the rest of the trip to Grandfather's manor. I looked into his eyes and thought about how Grandfather would demand an heir—how terrible it would be if that fell to our children. How wonderful it would be if we could live free of those constraints.

When we caught sight of the manor out the window, Keith lowered our clasped hands and entwined his fingers with mine instead.

"Nadja," he said quietly. "No matter how this confrontation with your grandfather goes—no matter what happens and no matter what is said—I will always be by your side."

"Always?" My voice sounded hoarse to my own ears, and I was surprised to realize how nervous I was.

"Always," he assured me, squeezing my hand.

I squeezed his hand back just as the carriage stopped. I heard the footman alighting and released Keith's hands reluctantly as the door opened. Keith jumped down first, and then held out both of his hands to me. Puzzled, I reached for them—but he stepped forward and caught me around the waist, literally lifting me down from the carriage.

My hands flew to his shoulders in surprise, and he held me in an embrace as he lowered me slowly to the ground. "Always," he whispered in my ear before he stepped away and offered his arm to me as if he had not just breached the rules of propriety already.

I slid my hand through the loop of his arm.

Rosemary and Oscar stood waiting at the entrance, standing the proper distance apart. I wondered at the lack of passion, and for an instance thought that perhaps Keith was right. Or perhaps Rosemary was always proper and ladylike. The way she behaved was not unlike Maryann, though Maryann's underlying passion countered her usual cold demeanor.

I tightened my hand on Keith's arm, and he brought around his other hand to cover my fingers with his.

I thought only of Keith as we walked through familiar hallways and up the familiar grand staircase to Grandfather's study. The butler announced us, then stood aside. Oscar and Rosemary stepped in side-by-side, and Keith and I followed.

"Well, I was expecting Oscar and Nadja. Who might these other who be?"

I spoke. "Beside Oscar is Rosemary Applefield; and this is Keith Harcourt, Grandfather. Oscar and I have decided whom we shall marry—and it shall not be each other."

Grandfather stood and walked to his window. "I notice that you assign them no titles. Is this a deliberate omission?"

"They have no titles, Grandfather," I said.

I heard Grandfather inhale loudly and deeply, and then exhale in the same manner.

"Your mother, Nadja, has taught me that it is unwise to simply say no. So tell me about this Keith of yours. He was a teacher of yours, I suppose?"

"No, Grandfather."

"You met him while you were running from your uncle?"

I inhaled sharply, wondering if Mother had told him. "No, Grandfather."

Grandfather spun around and fixed me with a sharp look. "He wasn't a servant?"

I felt tension erupt the other side of the room where Oscar and Rosemary stood in silence—but perhaps I was imagining this. "No, Grandfather," I replied, and my voice trembled.

Grandfather was silent for a moment. "Tell me—where else could you have met one without a title, Nadja?"

"Probably nowhere, Grandfather."

"Nadja."

"I met him at school, when I was in Switzerland."

Grandfather stared at me. "I sent you to a good, disciplined school."

"You did, Grandfather. He was Lord Keith Harcourt, heir to Duke Harcourt."

A moment's silence. "And he is no longer that?"

"He abandoned his family name." I said no more, knowing that Grandfather would not care what the details were.

"And you expect me to accept your marriage to a man who has thrown away everything worthwhile?"

"Perhaps not. But I will marry him regardless of what you say, Grandfather."

Grandfather was silent for a moment. I knew that he was remembering Mother.

"You think that a man who threw away his own family name will take the name of Preminger?"

"No, Grandfather. I think that he and I will live without any title or estate."

"And the House of Preminger?"

"Shall go to Oscar and Rosemary."

Grandfather looked sharply at the two. "And I assume that this girl is not another noble who had chosen to defy her name?"

"No, Grandfather," said Oscar. "She was raised in an orphanage, and no one knows who her parents are. She was working as a maid when I met her."

Grandfather opened his mouth—I could see the words "Absolutely not!" at the tip of his tongue, and edged closer to Keith. Keith let his arm fall to rest around my waist. I reached to lace my fingers with his, pulling his arm more securely around me.

Grandfather was watching us with narrowed eyes, and I was certain that the breach in propriety was frustrating him. But he settled back in his chair and looked to Oscar.

"Well, if nothing else she has more sense of what is proper and what is not than my granddaughter and her intended. Tell me about yourself, girl."

Rosemary stepped forward, her eyes bright. When she spoke, her voice was strong. "I cannot help where I was born, or how I was raised. But I have watched the ladies of the house, and I know how to play the part. There is no proof that I am of noble blood, but there is no proof that I am not, either."

"Indeed," said Grandfather, and I heard the undercurrent of amusement in his voice. My heart filled with hope.

"I can be a lady," Rosemary insisted, and her posture said much the same.

"If all you need is a possible lineage with a proper home," said Keith, "I'm sure that my father would be willing to discover her as our long-lost sister. This would satisfy the world, I'm sure."

"You left your family—have you any say in what your father does or does not do?"

"I intend to return to my family before I marry Nadja, and apologize to my father. I will take my place as a son of the family of Harcourt, but my brother shall be my father's heir. My brother owes Nadja and myself a few favors, and he is a good soul—I'm sure he would not object to talking our father into this." I stared up at Keith, thinking I must be falling in love with him all over again.

"And yet that still leaves the matter of an heir to the house of Preminger," my grandfather pointed out. "Oscar would be a wonderful heir, but he is not of Preminger blood!"

"Does it matter, Grandfather?" I asked, but cringed a moment later when he sent me a searing look.

"Yes, it matters!" he growled, and I saw that the confrontation I had feared was about to begin. "Nothing matters more than blood! How can it be the House of Preminger if the person succeeding it is not of that blood?"

Keith's arm tightened around me, pulling me flush against him. I glanced up at him: he was glaring fiercely at Grandfather.

"You will _not_ raise your voice at Nadja," he said in a low voice. "I am not averse to running away and never having to deal with these petty issues of nobility again. The only reason Nadja and I are here is because she loves her mother, and to run away would be to lose her mother. But if you continue to intimidate my intended, we will marry in some small village and visit her mother in secret—you will never hear from us again."

"And I suppose you think that you can hide from one of the most powerful Dukes in Austria?"

"I managed to hide from one of the most powerful dukes in Britain."

There was a terse silence. I took the opportunity to speak up. "I would run from you, Grandfather. I would live with him happily, just as Mother and Father did. Only I would not come back, no matter what the circumstances. There is nothing for me here except my dear mother and my dear cousin."

Grandfather looked at me, and I hoped that he could see in me the same determination that had held Mother together through everything.

"You truly love him." He said the statement heavily, in resignation.

"Yes, Grandfather. Very much—more than anything."

"Then I will strike a compromise with you," he said. "You will live as you wish, but when you have children, you will ensure that they are familiar with the ways of nobles. One of them shall be the Preminger heir."

"We shall wait until they are…twelve years of age. And then each child shall be offered a choice," I suggested.

"One of them must be my heir."

"If they so choose," said Keith, and I was relieved that he had agreed to my split-second bargain.

Grandfather pursed his lips, but knew better than to argue further. "Very well." He turned to Oscar. "The Harcourt family shall train this…girl…and if they deem her suitable to announce as their daughter, I shall acknowledge her as your intended. You shall be my heir for all intents and purposes, but you shall be a stand-in. You will not have the right to declare your own heir, as that heir must be a child of Nadja's—or Nadja herself, in the instance that she should change her mind."

"Thank you, Grandfather," I said with a rush of relief and gratitude, and heard Oscar echoing my sentiments. Rosemary curtsied. Keith nodded curtly.

I turned to throw my arms around Keith's neck and kiss him on the mouth.

I heard a sharp gasp from Rosemary, and then my grandfather's sharp, "Nadja!" followed by an unmistakable muffled chuckle from Oscar.

I pulled away and looked around, but could not wipe the smile off my face. "I'm just so happy, Grandfather!"

"Yet the rest of us still manage to observe the rules of society. Was there anything else?"

"No, Grandfather," I replied giddily.

"Then go," he said, and we filed out of the room, all smiling. Keith's arm remained around me as we walked down the hallway, and I noticed that though Oscar and Rosemary were being subtle, their hands would brush and they would exchange a secret, quiet smile.

I looked up at Keith, and knew that he had seen too.


	19. Epilogue

Epilogue

"You're not serious," said Francis dryly.

"Oh, but I am," said Keith.

"We don't even know this girl."

"So?"

"What do you mean, so?"

"It's for Nadja."

"Yes, I understand that, but-"

"It would truly be a big help if you can do this for us, Francis, Maryann," I contributed.

"I understand why you're asking, Nadja, but this is a ridiculous request! No one in this house knows her, even you and Keith haven't met her more than a handful of times. And you want her to be declared a Harcourt? It's unheard of!"

"Please, Maryann."

She looked between me and Keith, and then at Francis.

"I suppose…we can try," conceded Francis.

"Thank you _so _much," I gushed.

"So, when should we expect the wedding?" asked Keith.

"When should we expect yours?" Francis countered.

"I wonder when Oscar's is," Keith pondered.

Francis rolled his eyes. "Don't answer if you don't want to."

"We thought we'd have a small ceremony whenever we next come across Troupe Dandelion," I told him.

Francis smiled. "Sounds like fun."

"Far more fun than the social event that your wedding is going to be," said Keith. I elbowed him in the side.

Francis and Maryann laughed. "Probably so," Maryann agreed.

"Rosemary is a _wonderful _person, and she wants so badly to be a proper lady—I'm certain you won't be disappointed," I told them.

"I certainly hope so," Maryann said. "It will take a great deal of effort on her part."

"She knows that," said Keith.

"So, then. Maryann was just wanting to hold another ball—would you mind terribly if it was held in honor of your homecoming and your betrothal?"

I saw Keith about to object, and interjected, "Please? There will be dancing—you love to dance."

Keith smiled, no doubt remembering our twirling among the trees in our childhood days as well. "I suppose I do. Very well, then—just this once."


End file.
